


We'll Meet Again

by vintagetypewriter



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Developing Friendships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2020-04-10 10:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19085794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagetypewriter/pseuds/vintagetypewriter
Summary: A headstrong and strategic thinker, Eleanor Price is transferred from the WAAC to the 101st Airborne as part of a trial experiment. Forced to become a medic, Eleanor attempts to make the best of the opportunity only to find that the Screaming Eagles, and Easy Company in particular, are worming their way into her heart. Eventual Speirs/OC





	1. Chapter 1

Eleanor blew a stray strand of hair out of her face as she stepped off of the bus and onto the dusty ground of Camp Toccoa. The ride from Fort Bragg had been nearly five hours long and she'd been glad she'd chosen a light cotton dress for the trip, rather than wearing the Class A blazer and skirt uniform she'd been given. She blew a stray strand of hair out of her face and reached up, trying to arrange it back into the victory roll where the rest of her hair had been carefully frozen in place. She should've at least left her Class A cap out of her luggage so that she could put it on. If the men at Camp Toccoa were anything like the men at Fort Bragg, fitting in here would certainly not be easy.

"Ma'am, Colonel Sink wants you to report to his office. I can take your trunk to your quarters." the Private who'd driven the bus told her. Eleanor bit the inside of her cheek. And glanced at the back of the bus, where the few other men who'd been transported with her were pulling their belongings out.

"If you'll point me to my quarters, Private, I'll do it myself." She told the young man, who sputtered, unsure of how to handle it.

"But ma'am, my orders-" He began, but Eleanor gave him a stern look that stopped him dead.

"Your orders are to point me to my quarters. And it's Lieutenant." She corrected him. She'd been warned before she left Fort Bragg that first impressions would be everything with these men.

"Of course, Lieutenant." The Private complied, still unsure of himself. "You'll be in building F. It's not a barracks - it's one of the private rooms where we have visiting colonels and generals stay. It's that way." He explained. "Colonel Sink's office is just two buildings to the left of that. Do you need me to show you?"

"No, I'm sure I can manage. Thank you, Private Anderson." She replied kindly, reading his name tape. Eleanor walked around to the back of the bus and, thankfully, saw that the other men had already pulled their own belongings out and proceeded to their own assignments. Exhaling sharply, Eleanor grabbed both ends of her trunk and began to pull it off the bus, propping it against her own body to get a better grip on the handles. She wished she'd brought a suitcase instead. She'd packed as lightly as she could, but this wasn't a vacation. The trunk wasn't all that heavy (after all, she'd been going through physical training with the other women at Fort Bragg) but it was unwieldy and took some talent to continue balancing on her heels as she lugged it in the direction the Private had pointed. She looked at the letters printed on the buildings and worked her way toward building "F."

At one point she had to pass one of the men's barracks, and to her chagrin, the men were in between duties and stopped to watch her in surprise. A few let out whistles and one or two offered to help her, but she refused, throwing an effortless smile over her shoulder, despite her burning arms. When she rounded a corner and found that her quarters were just a building away, she put her trunk on the ground and walked around to one end, dragging it the rest of the way.

The building was small, containing a room with a tiny bed and desk, and a bathroom attached. Eleanor sighed in relief when she saw that the bathroom contained both a toilet and a shower. She hadn't been apprised of the shower situation before coming. She picked up the skirt of her dress and dabbed it against her face to get rid of some of the moisture. Georgia, if possible, was even more humid than North Carolina. Pulling open the trunk, she grabbed the stack of papers she'd placed in the top and left her new abode, heading for her first meeting with Colonel Robert Sink.

* * *

"Come in, Lieutenant Price." A thick southern accent called from inside the office. Eleanor walked in with chin held high and stood at attention, saluting the Colonel. There was a certain warmth in his chocolate brown eyes and his gray mustache twitched a bit as he spoke:

"At ease."

Eleanor relaxed and offered her transfer papers to the man before shaking his hand. "Eleanor Price, of the WAAC. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, sir."

"Same to you, Price. I've heard a lot of good things about you and the other WAAC women. General MacArthur says you ladies are the hardest working, most disciplined soldiers our country is producing and if that ain't a compliment from the general, then I don't know what is." Sink carried on.

"It certainly is, sir." Eleanor replied. The briefing wasn't really necessary; she knew exactly why she was here. Despite the fact that the vast majority of U.S. citizens judged and ridiculed the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps, the Army itself was impressed. Well, those in charge, anyway. Many generals were already pushing to turn the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps into the Women's Army Corps and eventually integrate them with the men's forces.

However, this was a delicate and controversial topic for the general public, so the higher-ups needed to tread softly. For that reason, they selected five women from the WAAC - officers that had progressed quickly into leadership roles and shown the most promise - to test integration in various military divisions. Eleanor was chosen to join the paratroopers, which was a new concept for a division anyway, so she was like an experiment within an experiment. If the women were able to successfully complete their training and blend in and build trust with their units (and that was a big "if"), the generals would discuss the possibility of allowing them overseas in combat situations on a trial basis.

"I've decided to place you in Easy Company. They're my best group of men and they have a record of excellence. If anyone can set new and higher standards for the U.S. Army, it's them. This'll be another opportunity for them to break ground." He explained, rather pleased with himself.

"Of course. I'm excited to be a member." She replied demurely.

"There is a condition, though." He told her, his face becoming serious. "I have orders to have you trained as a medic."

Eleanor's eyebrows shot up in surprise. A medic? There was a reason she signed up for the WAAC instead of becoming a nurse. How was anyone "breaking ground" by sending her in as a nurse?

"Sir, I-I don't understand. I'm a second officer; I thought that translated to a Lieutenant." She expressed, doing her best to remain calm. Lieutenants were not  _medics._  She'd been to officer's school through the WAAC and she'd worked hard for her title.

"Now I know it's not ideal, but we've got to take what we can get. We can't put you in a command position over these men and expect good results. Unfortunately, you're in a position where you'll have to  _earn_  their respect. Now you can keep your title. But on the field, they want you wearing that medic badge. It's the only thing that might keep you from getting shot and making this whole thing blow up in our faces. You're gonna start your medic training tomorrow and you're going to become the best damn medic in this division. Do you understand?" He finished, the stern tone of his voice clashing with the stubborn approval in his eyes.

"Sir, yes sir." She replied.

"Good. Now Easy's about to start PT. Find your CO, Captain Sobel, and hook up with the others. There should be uniforms and gear in your room. You're dismissed, soldier." He told her.

Eleanor saluted and exited the office, stepping back out into the stifling heat. She sighed, pushing the fact that she was now a medic out of her mind as best she could. The hardest part was yet ahead. It was time to meet the men.

Eleanor attempted to comb her crunchy, overly-sprayed hair into a bun at the back of her head and soon decided that she was glad her new abode didn't have a mirror - she didn't have time to worry about her appearance and it needed to drop lower on her list of priorities if she were going to make it at Camp Toccoa. She did however, pull subconsciously at her PT clothes for a minute, trying to get used to them. The black shorts were short and obviously not meant for a woman's hips, and the white t-shirt, which felt a bit tight in the chest area, was an accident waiting to happen the first time she got caught in the rain. She made a mental note to speak to someone about at least trading the shorts in for a larger size that she could cinch tight at the waist if needed. For now, however, she would have to make do.

Shielding her eyes from the sun, she stepped out of her cabin and began walking in the direction of Easy's barracks, hoping to happen upon others of the group at some point. She must've taken a bit longer than she'd thought, because by the time she found Easy's Barracks, the men were already lined up at attention, facing the man she assumed to be her new CO.

If she'd been asked to make a list of how she would prefer to be introduced to her new comrades, this wouldn't have made the list at all. Except, perhaps, in her nightmares. She stopped for a moment before approaching, taking a deep breath and reminding herself that there was a reason she'd made it this far. Feeling a fleeting surge of confidence that only could've come from God himself, Eleanor straightened her shoulders and stepped up to the end of one of the lines, moving to stand at attention like the others. As the CO was laying into a man on the opposite end of her line, she hoped beyond hope that she could go largely unnoticed during this address and introduce herself to the man one-on-one later. However, like dominoes, the men around her shifted their gaze toward her, and the man with the slicked-back hair and the bloodthirsty gaze quickly looked for the source of their rebellion.

"Do you children know what it means to stand at attention?!" He shouted, jolting most of them back to their original stances, staring straight ahead. The man's eyes trained on her and narrowed slightly as he marched down the row.

"I take it you're our new nurse." He said in a low, challenging voice, speaking close enough to the side of her face that she felt vapors hitting her cheek and temple.  _Great,_ she thought to herself, resisting the urge to flinch away.

"Medic, sir. Lieutenant Eleanor Price, sir." She corrected respectfully, keeping her posture and gaze straight, all business. The CO, Captain Sobel, she remembered, snorted through his nose. It didn't take a genius to see that it didn't take much for this man to feel threatened.

"Medic, I see. Well, Price, we're about to run that mountain." he explained slowly, patronizingly, as he gestured over his shoulder to the wilderness that sat behind the camp. "I'll give you a chance to go back to Sink now, if you'd like."

Her eyes flicked over to meet his for a moment and she resisted the desire to smack the gloating look out of them. Not dignifying the taunt with a response, she simply trained her eyes forward again, remaining at attention. He stood there watching her challengingly for an uncomfortable amount of time before turning to address the entire company.

"Alright, men! Currahee! Three miles up, three miles down! Anyone who stops loses their weekend pass. Let's go!" He exclaimed, causing the men to break and begin jogging toward the base of the mountain. Although the men sent curious glances in her direction as they passed, they were more wary than friendly. She sighed and followed after them. She was so much expecting to be ignored that she jumped slightly when someone appeared next to her and offered her a quiet "Lieutenant."

She glanced sideways at the man, who stood at least six inches taller than her, with ginger hair and a light complexion. He didn't smile at her, but his mouth quirked slightly in what she interpreted as reassurance. "I'm Lieutenant Dick Winters." He introduced himself quietly, obviously not wanting Sobel to get onto him for speaking during the run.

"Eleanor Price." She told him, careful not to let her words mess up her breathing pattern as she hit the foot of the mountain and began to run at a gradual incline. He didn't respond and Eleanor got the feeling that he wasn't any more comfortable than the rest of the men, but perhaps saw it as part of his duties as second in command to establish some kind of ground with her and lead by example. Eleanor decided that he was probably a good man.

"Welcome to Easy." he said simply, before pulling ahead to run to the front of the group, encouraging the other men as he passed them.

Currahee was certainly Eleanor's newest hell. She'd run six miles before; at Fort Bragg she'd run much farther. However, the base at Fort Bragg wasn't exactly hilly. The incline of Currahee was the worst kind - it was gradual for the majority of the distance, building a slow burn in your thighs, and then the incline deepened in the final stretch, turning your muscles to jell-o. The pressure to prove herself was palpable, and anger drove Eleanor onward as powerfully as the men's pride drove them. She had no problem keeping up, but she was constantly at the back of the group. Every time she successfully passed one of the men, they'd practically cough up their liver in an effort to pass her back. She was the last one to slap the plaque at the top and the last to hit flat ground at the bottom, but she didn't dare let the group gain distance on her. Afterwards, her jaw was working in frustration as she paced back and forth near the gathered group of exhausted men, trying to gain her breath back.

"Better, Easy." Sobel addressed them. "But not good enough. Perhaps it's time to start running in full gear." He taunted, causing a few groans to erupt from the crowd. He quieted them with an icy glare and then reluctantly dismissed the group for dinner. The men began leaning on each other and helping each other up, some of them really not looking so good. Eleanor had thought she might throw up when she stopped running, but the feeling had passed after a minute or two, and besides, her stomach wouldn't have had much to contribute. She hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning, before she got on the bus.

"That was good for your first time on Currahee." Dick Winters said, approaching her. He barely seemed tired and Eleanor gave him a skeptical once-over.

"Thanks." She replied, biting back 90% of what she wanted to say - she was still frustrated that the men had been so determined to outrun her and had, in her mind, made her look worse than she already did to begin with. Winters, however, seemed to pick up on her frustration.

"That's the fastest we've ever run it." He added with a knowing little smirk, holding up the timer.

"Good for us." She replied simply, although her mood lightened considerably with the admission. After all, she'd made the company look good, like Colonel Sink had wanted. Winters continued walking with her in silence, showing her to the mess hall.

In the end, Eleanor was thankful for Winters' sense of duty because- as childish as it sounded- it gave her a place to sit in the mess hall that first night. After getting her food, she settled in at a table with Winters and another man with dark hair and the kind of mischievous look about him that every young girl's mother warns her to steer clear of. Her suspicions were confirmed when he opened his mouth and nothing seemed to pour out but charm.

"Lewis Nixon, ma'am." he introduced himself, standing as she approached and only seating himself again after she settled on the bench next to Winters.

"Lieutenant Eleanor Price." She replied in kind, offering him a hand over the table that he shook gently.

"Tell me, Eleanor, are your ears burning?" Nixon added with a smile, referring to the tables full of men that all seemed to be 'discreetly' rubber-necking.

"Constantly." She replied, returning his smile. The humor was a relief and she immediately felt more comfortable with the situation. "And you can call me Nora. Both of you." She added, earning friendly nods from them. She was tempted to ask them what the men were saying about her, but chose not to put them in that position. Besides, she knew. WAAC women were often judged as promiscuous or as lesbians. It was a simple case of society mocking or, worse, trying to explain, what they didn't understand. She was used to the assumptions, sure. She still had no idea how to combat them, though. She would need to stay on her toes and actively work to change the men's perception of her. One wrong move and she would give men like Sobel a reason to do what they'd already decided to do: get rid of her.

"Easy Company are good men." Winters assured her, seeing the cogs moving in her mind. "It just might take them some time to get used to you."

* * *

"What're the chances that this is some kind of prank?" Frank Perconte asked, glancing over at the table where the new addition to their company sat with the officers.

"Nah, I heard about this." Skip Muck replied, stabbing his fork into the meat on his plate. "Buddy of mine at Fort Bragg told me that the higher-ups over there are always trying to find ways to involve the WAAC ladies more."

"The WAAC?" Johnny Martin interjected, a skeptical look on his face. They'd all heard about the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps.

"Well duh, where else did you think a woman in the army would come from?" Bill Guarnere retorted, rolling his eyes.

"You know what they say about the women of the WAAC, right?" Liebgott said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "They make good company." He finished, waggling his eyebrows. Much of the table erupted with laughter, and Malarkey shoved Liebgott in the shoulder.

"Okay, okay." Carwood Lipton cut in, attempting to calm the men down. "I'm sure she's just a normal woman, trying to serve her country like the rest of us." The table quieted for only a moment before Luz started it up again.

"I heard she's an officer." He told them.

"She's a medic. Medic's ain't officers." Perconte reminded them matter-of-factly.

"She's a woman. Women ain't officers." Guarnere corrected, causing the men to erupt into fits of laughter once again. Their rowdiness was beginning to draw attention from the rest of the mess hall and Bull Randleman shifted uncomfortably when he noticed the young woman glancing over at them.

"She damn near beat your ass up Currahee, Perconte." He spoke up for the first time, causing the men to hoop and holler and turn their attention on the short, cranky man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

“You’ve really got to put pressure on it.” Captain Alan Mills reminded Eleanor as she pressed down on the neck of another medic-in-training. “The throat puts out a lot of blood when it’s hit. He’ll bleed out in seconds if you don’t stem the flow.” 

Mills was a doctor that had been conscripted to stay at Toccoa and train medics of the 101st Airborne to hold their own on the battlefield. He’d probably wind up at a medical unit in Europe or the Pacific, operating on young men after they’re transported off the field.

Medic training wasn’t proving easy for Eleanor. The steps for dressing wounds weren’t hard to remember when she was being tested on them, but with the pressure of the clock ticking and her superior watching, she made small mistakes. She couldn’t bring herself to imagine the pressure that bullets and screaming would bring. One thing at a time.  It didn’t help that she constantly had the pressure to prove herself floating in the back of her mind. It was hard to focus on what she was doing when she was always trying to determine how the men around her were perceiving her. 

She instructed the “wounded” medic, Eugene Roe, to lift his arm up and put his hand behind his head so his elbow jutted out, and proceeded to wrap the bandage around his neck, anchoring it under his armpit to create pressure on the “wounded” area. Roe was one of the other Easy Company combat medics. Her interactions with him had been civil enough. At first she’d thought he was being cold toward her, but she was beginning to think he was just a man of few words. 

With the other men, however, she got no such feeling. At breakfast that day, she’d wound up sitting alone, the obvious pariah of the 506th. Pushing the memory from her mind, she pretended to give Roe a syrette of morphine and sighed in relief when Captain Mills moved on to observe another pair. 

“Good job.” Roe told her, his lips quirking up slightly in encouragement. 

“Thanks. Switch?” She suggested, thankful when he hopped up, allowing her to lie there and play the patient. 

“So…where ya from?” He asked her as he began to perform the steps on her. A slight blush rose in his cheeks when he had to gather her hair in his hands and brush it away from her neck in order to bandage it.

“Ohio, originally. I just came here from North Carolina, though. Been there for a couple of years.” She told him, eyes trained on the ceiling. She allowed him to raise her head and manipulate her arm behind her head like she’d done to him. “What about you?”

“Louisiana.” He told her. She likely could have guessed that, but she wasn’t an expert on accents so she had refrained from assuming. “They really gonna put you in combat?” He asked after a minute.

“That’s the plan.” She replied. He seemed to contemplate it for a moment, before taking a step back and allowing the approaching Captain to survey his bandaging work. “So what do the others do while we’re here?” She asked as Roe helped her up off of the table. They’d been training for a few hours and she was secretly hoping that she was missing a run up Currahee. 

“They’re in their own seminars; about strategy and weapons.” He told her, causing her to straighten up a bit as they walked out of the building together -- class was over. 

“Don’t we need to know that stuff too? We’ll be on the field.” She asked, frustrated. She loved learning about military strategy in officer’s school, and she’d be much more engaged in those seminars than the training she was forced to go through with the Medical Corps for the first half of every day. 

“We sit in on some of it, too. Don’t worry.” He assured her, and she bristled but tried not to show it.

“I’m not.” She insisted quietly. Roe sent her a sideways glance, sizing her up. Lieutenant Eleanor Price sure was headstrong. 

* * *

 

Eleanor stood at attention with the men as Sobel inspected their uniforms. After she and Roe had gotten out of training, she’d stopped to change into her fatigues and report to the training field. Unfortunately, she hadn’t missed any runs up Toccoa, and she had a feeling one might be coming later that night. As for right now, she couldn’t tear her eyes off of the obstacle course in front of her. Obstacle course drills had been one of her favorite parts of training at Fort Bragg and had been the first way she’d stood out to her superior officers as a possible candidate for the paratroopers, who receive more vigorous physical training than any other divisions. She’d always finished first and had been obsessed with shaving her personal record down each time. She’d never run a course with men before, and her mind reeled with possibilities for proving herself. She’d fit under that barbed wire with no problems at all, and --

“Price!” Eleanor nearly jumped as she was pulled out of her thoughts by a voice she was quickly learning to hate. “I can see your hair, Price.” Sobel spoke, once again coming too close to her face for comfort. He was trying to intimidate her, make her feel small. He said nothing else, and Eleanor was unsure of how to respond. Her hair had been pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck and was, indeed, peeking out from the bottom of her helmet.

“As can I with yours, sir.” She replied calmly, immediately regretting it. She had only contemplated saying it -- hadn’t thought she actually would. Maybe if he’d call her by her rank like he did everyone else, she wouldn’t have such knee-jerk reactions. Despite the fact that none of them dared laugh or move, the tension in the air shot sky high and the men made shocked eye contact with each other while Sobel’s attention was on her. Sobel’s eyes had narrowed into venomous slits and he regarded her in silence for a few moments.

“Put it away or cut it off. I don’t want to see it again.” He told her simply, his voice deadly calm. 

“Yes sir.” She replied, respectfully this time. He watched her for a few unsettling moments before continuing on to the next person. Surely that hadn’t been it? Was it possible that his bark was worse than his bite? Eleanor exhaled through her nose, trying to relax her muscles as she turned her attention back to the obstacles in front of her.

* * *

 

“Come on, Price! What the hell are you doing? Worried about breaking a nail?” Sobel spat at Eleanor as she finished crawling under the barbed wire. She had been sorely mistaken in thinking that he’d chosen to overlook her impertinence. He was focusing 90% of his taunting and scolding on her as she worked her way through the course -- in fact, he hadn’t stopped screaming at her from the moment the timer started -- despite the fact that she was doing exceptionally well. Of course, there were men whose muscled legs and forearms pulled them further and faster than her. However, she was managing to keep herself in the top five, being lean, flexible, and agile. And this time she wasn’t surrendering an inch to the men who tried to push past her with their wounded egos.

She tried to tune out Sobel’s harassment, choosing to take stock of her own abilities instead.  _ This must be killing you, Sobel _ , she thought to herself, a fierce determination kicking in that drove her on even faster. As she cleared the tires, her heart nearly stopped at the sight of the large wooden wall looming in the distance. That wall had to be, what...eight feet? There was no rope...no footholds. Just a tall, smooth slab of wood standing between her and success. Choking down her anxiety at the sight, she picked up speed, hoping that a good running start would be the trick. When she reached the wall, she jumped, her boots skidding along the smooth surface as she desperately tried to walk up it. She reached as far as she could, praying that her fingers would meet the top edge. She had no such luck, and before she knew it, she was back on the ground, stumbling to keep her footing. 

She hadn’t made it. She flinched away from the men who had caught up to her and were pulling themselves up and over the wall. Still determined, she ran back a few yards and rushed at the wall again. Her boots made the same scuffling sounds as she reached desperately for the top. The edge of her fingertips brushed it this time, but she wasn’t able to get a grip and she slid back down once again. Her frustration was mounting and panic set in as she tuned back into the world and heard Sobel laying into her even harder. 

“You make it over that wall, or you’re going home, Price!” He was shouting, having found his opportunity. Winters, who had already finished and was encouraging the other men to keep moving, began to approach her, but Sobel cut in quickly.

“Don’t you help her, Lieutenant! Don’t help her!” He shouted furiously. Winters seemed conflicted, but kept his distance.

“Come on, Price. You’ve got this.” He told her. It seemed he wasn’t entirely sure if she  _ could  _ do it, but wanted to fulfill his usual role by providing moral support. 

“Come on, Price! Are you going to be a soldier or are you going to be a tart?” Sobel yelled, and the hairs on the back of Eleanor’s neck stood up. Winters also sent a disbelieving look in Sobel’s direction, though the raging man didn’t notice it. A Private on the other side of the wall had leaned over to empty the contents of his stomach and Sobel rushed over to him, turning his fury on the poor boy. 

Eleanor backed up once again to prepare for another try and watched as the larger man from the mess hall the first night ( _ Randleman _ , Roe had called him), actually slowed down as he reached it. Stopping at the foot of the wall, he quickly dropped to his knees and laced his fingers, cupping his hands together as a foothold. Shooting her a conspiratorial look, he nodded his head toward the wall. Eleanor hated the thought of accepting help for this, but she didn’t have time to think about it. If Sobel came back now, they’d both be in trouble. Without thinking, she got a running start and stepped into Randleman’s hand. His boost was plenty to get her to the top of the wall and she swung her legs over, jumping down on the other side. Sobel stopped berating the sick Private and watched in disbelief as she ran past him. His disbelief soon turned back to anger and he stormed back around the wall; it was too late. Randleman was already jumping down from the wall himself and proceeded with the course, right behind Eleanor. He cursed under his breath and Winters ran off to cheer for someone else, not wanting to be questioned about the ordeal.

Eleanor still didn’t come in last place, but she was angry about the time she lost trying to get over the wall. She was even more angry that she couldn’t get over the wall by herself. Or maybe it was embarrassment. Either way, she wasn’t in a particularly gracious mood as she stood at the finish, waiting for the rest to get through the course. She’d taken off her helmet and pulled out her hair tie to let her sweaty scalp breathe, Sobel-be-damned. 

“That wall gives everyone trouble the first time.” A deep voice came from behind her and she turned her head to find herself looking straight into the broad chest of the man who’d helped her. “I’m Bull Randleman.”

She regarded him. She’d had the urge to snap when he first approached her, but as she corrected her gaze to meet his kind eyes, her ego deflated.

“Nora Price.” She introduced herself, offering him a hand. His own giant hand engulfed it with a gentle squeeze and he gave her a polite nod. “And...Thank you.” She said softly, not desiring for everyone around to hear. 

“You’ll get it next time.” He assured her.

“Yeah.” She agreed, turning to face Winters as he dismissed them for dinner and freetime. The group of men began to shuffle toward the barracks and Roe turned to look at her when she didn’t follow.

“You comin’?” He asked, causing a few of the other heads to turn.

“I’ll see you at the mess hall in a bit.” She insisted, waving him on. 

After the men cleared out, she sighed, turning back to the course. “All right, wall. It’s just you and me now.”

* * *

 

“I heard there was steam coming out of Sobel’s ears when she finished the obstacle course.” Lewis Nixon said just over an hour later at dinner, grinning as he took a bite of his sandwich. The corners of Winters’ mouth quirked up, and he shook his head.

“She was fast, Nixon. If she could get up that wall, she could probably beat Sobel through it.” He said, lowering his voice. Nixon laughed at this and glanced around the cafeteria.

“Say, where is she?” He wondered aloud. Dinner had started half an hour ago and there was no sign of her.

“Not sure. Taking a long shower?” Winters theorized.

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Nixon replied jokingly. “How’s she getting along with the men?”

Winters shoveled a bite of mashed potatoes into his mouth, shrugging a shoulder. “She’s not, really. They’re starting to warm up to her, I think. But she’s still wary of them. Well, us. Wants to prove herself.”

“Makes sense.” Nixon replied. “But she can start by proving she’s got a personality. Otherwise she’ll end up like you, with only me for a friend.” 

“Very funny.” Winters retorted before pushing himself up from his seat; he’d finished his meal quickly, as usual. “I’ll send her this way if I run into her.” He told Nixon, earning a thumbs up as he excused himself from the table.

* * *

 

 

Winters sighed as he watched the moving figure on the obstacle course, the watercolor streaks of dusk glowing behind her. She still hadn’t changed out of her fatigues and he was willing to bet she’d never left at all. How she expected to get up the wall after an hour of trying was beyond him. She had to be exhausted.

He made his way toward the course, stopping when he noticed another soldier leaning against one of the barracks, watching the scene as well. Lieutenant Ronald Speirs of Dog Company watched the girl run back and forth, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His face was a mask of indifference, but his eyes followed her with an intense curiosity. This wasn’t unusual, Winters had observed -- most of the men at Toccoa were reacting with some level of interest or curiosity when it came to the young woman who’d recently joined their ranks. 

“She’s persistent.” He said simply, acknowledging Winters’ presence. Winters came to stand next to him and declined when offered a cigarette.

“She certainly is.” Winters replied. He hadn’t had many conversations with the surly lieutenant and wasn’t quite sure what else to say.

“She’s been at it for an hour now.” Speirs added, flicking the butt of his cigarette onto the ground and putting it out with his shoe. “Needs to be shown some technique.”

With that, he walked away and left Winters standing alone, considering the girl. He watched her try a few more times before sighing and making his way over to her.

“You’re missing dinner.” He told her as he reached the wall. She spared him only a quick glance before running at the wall again. Her fingers barely managed to brush the top edge and she groaned as her body slammed against the wooden surface on the way down, knocking her to the ground. Her hands were red and raw from grabbing at the wood so many times.

“I’m not hungry.” She finally answered as Winters offered her a hand and helped her up.

“You need to eat and rest. We may have to march tonight.” He reminded her.

“None of it’s gonna matter if I get sent home.” She retorted, sizing up the wall with a frustrated look in her eye. 

“Come to dinner and I’ll show you how to do this later.” He bargained with her, and he saw a spark of interest in her eye as she began to really listen to him for the first time. 

“Show me now, and then I’ll come to dinner.” She negotiated. Winters considered ordering her to dinner but decided to compromise. 

“Your body’s too close to the wall when you step.” He told her simply. She cocked her head slightly as she took in the information and looked at the wall before looking back at him. 

“Show me.”

“When you step against the wall, you want to lean your torso back further, that way the force of your body is going into the wall. If you stay too vertical, the force of your body is pushing you down.” He explained, showing her how to step against the wall. She practiced doing it the way he did a couple of times, pushing against the wall and back off. “Now try.”

She moved back and ran for the wall, trying to step the way he taught her, and was shocked and elated when her fingers clamped easily over the top edge of the wall. She hung there for a moment, her arm muscles too weak from all of her failed attempts. She didn’t have the upper body strength, even on her best day, to pull herself up using just her arms, the way some of the men did. Winters began to give her advice, but she ignored it, placing her feet flat against the wall and walking up to her hands until her body was folded and her butt was sticking out.

“There we go.” She mumbled to herself. She struggled awkwardly to swing a leg over and threw her arms up in victory as she came to sit on top of it.

Winters smiled and clapped a couple of times before gesturing for her to jump down. “See? All a matter of technique, not strength. Let me show you a better way to use your legs when you first grab on.” He continued as she joined him on the ground again, unable to stop beaming at her accomplishment. “And then  _ dinner.” _ He added sternly.

* * *

 

 

By the time Eleanor arrived at the Mess Hall (escorted there by Winters, who did not follow her in) much of the men, including Nixon, had already cleared out. After having the cook scrape up the remains of what was left in the dinner pans, she stood uncertainly at the front of the room with her tray. The non-coms of Easy were still socializing at their tables, some of them having gone back to beg for seconds. She fleetingly considered whether or not she could get away with hiding out in her cabin for dinner and bringing the dishes back later, but she knew that it was neither allowed nor reasonable. She noticed Eugene Roe’s back at one of the tables and began to make her way over, but she was flagged down by Randleman before she got there.

“Over here, Nora.” He beckoned her with a wave, gesturing for the other men to scoot down and make room. If the men were surprised or uncomfortable, they certainly didn’t show it. She sat down in the place allotted and suddenly felt very dirty next to the men who had already showered and changed out of their muddy fatigues. 

“Lemme introduce you to everybody,” Bull insisted, and Eleanor felt a twinge of relief at the suggestion. She’d found herself in that awkward space where she hadn’t formally introduced herself to the men yet, but had been around them long enough that it was uncomfortable to initiate it now. “This is Don Malarkey.” He began, gesturing to the ginger-haired man sitting across from her. He smiled sheepishly and gave her a nod of greeting. “That’s Skip Muck.” He continued, pointing to the one next to Malarkey. 

“Frank Perconte, Joe Toye, George Luz, Joe Liebgott, and this sourpuss here is Bill Guarnere.” He finished labeling everyone at their table. The men offered small acknowledgements  and greetings (a wink in the case of George Luz), and Eleanor spent a few moments looking at each man’s face, wanting to remember their names.

“At this table back here you’ve got Floyd Talbert, Johnny Martin, Carwood Lipton, and you already know Eugene Roe.” He continued, gesturing to the table behind them where a few more men sat. “The rest have already left. Guys, this is Nora Price.”

“Pleased to meet you all.” She told them with a slight nod, taking a sip of her juice carton.

“Say, Nora, if you need help cutting that hair off, I’m a barber.” Liebgott spoke up and the others gave him skeptical looks.”I ain’t got a lot of experience with dames, though.”

“You got that right.” Luz chimed in, causing the entire table to erupt with laughter. Eleanor attempted (and failed) to suppress a smile at the jab. Liebgott chucked a napkin at Luz’s head.

“Thank you, Liebgott. I think I’ll hold off on cutting it for now, though.” She replied. “Otherwise Sobel will have to think of a real reason to hate me, and I don’t want him to hurt himself.” She added after a moment, causing the table to erupt again. She knew it was low to gain acceptance in a group by talking about someone else, but she felt she could make a special exception for Captain Herbert Sobel. She tried not to puff up at their reaction to her insult.

“I think I could see the smoke coming out of his ears when you gave it to him in formation.” Muck added.

“Yeah, you’d best be careful, bird. The man’s got a fragile ego and he’ll never get off your back if you damage it.” Malarkey told her seriously.

“Well I think I’m past that point, but I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you.” She replied.

“So, Nora, you got folks?” Bill Guarnere chimed in gruffly, earning puzzled looks from the men around him. She stared at him with wide, innocent eyes for a moment as she tried to process the subject change.

“Do I have--? Yes, I have folks.” She answered. 

“How do they feel about all-a this?” He asked, cutting to the chase.

“Oh, they’re fine with it.” She insisted, taking a bite of her food. When the men continued to watch her quietly, she realized they needed more explanation. “They met in the army. My mother was a nurse and my father was in the cavalry. They met in Europe.” She explained. It was true; the army had always been a way of life in her family. As a non-com, her father had not progressed very far in rank but had continued to serve faithfully after the Great War until his retirement a few years prior. Her parents, though they would’ve liked to shelter her as much as any parents, were proud that she was given the chance to serve. 

“How old are ya?” Guarnere continued to investigate.

“Give it a rest, Guarnere.” Bull warned.

“What? I’m just makin’ conversation.” He insisted.

“You’re not supposed to ask a woman that.” Toye told him. It was the first time he’d spoken, and Eleanor was surprised by his deep, rasping voice.

“It’s alright.” She insisted before addressing Guarnere. “I’m twenty-one.”

“See? She’s older than you.” Liebgott taunted, earning a glare from Wild Bill Guarnere.

“Yeah, so? It didn’t help her over that wall.” He defended, turning the attention back on her. A mischievous look lit Eleanor’s eyes.

“I’ll bet you a pack of cigs that I’ll make it over next time.” She challenged him. A spark that looked a bit like admiration lit Guarnere’s eyes.

“You’re on, bird.”


	3. Chapter 3

Eleanor exhaled deeply as she looked at the rows of men before her. She hated teaching these seminars with the others medics. Even if she  _ did _ know all of the men in front of her, she still didn’t like speaking in front of large groups.

The last few months had shown a remarkable change in Eleanor’s relationship with the men. She’d become one of them in more ways than she could count by the time they had begun jump training. They had now begun intensive jump training, medics included. Eleanor was excited to be getting field training with the men, as joining the men for weapons and tactical training at Camp Toccoa had been her favorite parts of the week. In return, the medics had been charged with teaching the men some of the things they’d learned. The seminars were for the men to learn life-saving reactions and procedures to tide them over on the field until a medic could arrive.

As Eleanor’s eyes roved over the open field lined with men, she became particularly nervous, remembering what had happened at the first seminar earlier that week. Because the seminars were held outside for need of space, men from other companies who had free time would often stop and watch; partly, Eleanor discovered, due to their curiosity about her.

Last time, a Corporal from Dog Company had, in passing, called out that he’d like Eleanor “to play doctor with  _ him _ some time.” The response had been instantaneous as several members of Easy Company had broken formation to lunge at the young man. The resulting tussle between Easy and Dog took ten minutes to break apart and had left Easy, unsurprisingly, without weekend passes along with a battery of other punishments. Eleanor had heard stories of the Easy men arguing with or threatening others for making lewd remarks about her, but those had always been behind her back. Apparently this man’s gall for disrespecting her to her face was enough to merit action in their eyes. 

While Eleanor was grateful for their loyalty, she’d been sure to speak to the men about it. If the higher-ups had any inkling that she was causing trouble or tension among the men, her presence there could be swiftly reevaluated. Not to mention, of course, that now Captain Sobel had confirmed his suspicions that Eleanor was the root of all of Easy Company’s problems. She’d given up long ago on the illusion that she could do anything to change her CO’s mind or impress him -- he was always watching her closely, looking for a reason to land the final blow. This was one of many reasons why she still had never gone out with the men on the weekend. Even a wrong assumption could get her sent home. Always having this awareness in her mind meant that she was always on edge. 

It was for this reason that Eleanor delighted in finding subtle ways to rub Captain Sobel the wrong way. It had become an art form for her, finding offenses that were powerful enough to knock him down a peg, but innocent enough that they were unpunishable. 

Needing relief from her nerves, she decided that this sort of mischief would be the perfect distraction. She stood patiently as Roe continued to explain the procedures for putting pressure on a chest wound and pacifying a soldier until help could arrive. After a few minutes of explanation, he turned to Eleanor and gestured for her to take over the presentation. Seeing that the soldiers were quickly losing interest in the topic, she clapped her hands together to get their attention.

“Okay, enough talk. Let’s see it in action!” She exclaimed cheerfully. She began to walk down the first row with a calculating look as she observed all of the men. “Let’s see…” She contemplated “everyone, close your eyes.” She commanded. Not everybody obeyed the command, but most of the men played along, closing their eyes and relaxing their shoulders.

“Now...imagine that you are on the battlefield. Bullets are whizzing past your head. One almost nicked you in the ear!” She narrated dramatically, reaching out and flicking Skip Muck’s earlobe, hard. 

“Ow!” he whined, jerking away from her, causing the men to erupt in chuckles, a few of them peeking through one eye.

“Keep ‘em closed!” She insisted. “Now...you’re not sure what to do. You’ve been ambushed! You look to your left. You look to your right.” She continued, stifling a smile as she watched some of the men’s heads turn back and forth. “You’re looking for your commanding officer. Where is he?” She continued, causing a few snickers to travel through the crowd. Sobel, who’d been standing there with his eyes closed, looking bored, immediately snapped to attention, looking around the crowd for the source of the laughter. He turned a warning gaze on Eleanor who responded with a sweet smile.

“Suddenly, you hear a cry.” She continued. “Medic! Medic! You crawl toward the sound, finding our beloved commanding officer has been wounded and needs medical attention immediately. But no medic has responded to the call. Just you. You see a flash of green in the distance and glance over, hoping that it’s someone coming for help, only to find that it’s one of the men who’s been shooting at you.” She continued, her voice rising in tempo and volume. She paused, the air tense.

“Uniformed in U.S. Army fatigues. That’s right.” She confirmed. “Our Captain Sobel has succumbed to a very common and tragic military incident that makes up 21% of all war casualties. Friendly fire.”

The men couldn’t have controlled their snickering if they wanted to, and Sobel’s stare was the nail in Eleanor’s coffin. She felt that she’d outdone herself with this one. The implication that Sobel would be assaulted by friendly fire was certainly an affront to his character. But what could he do about it, really? Eleanor felt confident that he wouldn’t go running to Colonel Sink about this -- what would he say? That she’d used him as an example during a seminar to teach soldiers about incidents of friendly fire? It wasn’t worth Sink’s time, and it would make Sobel look weak. 

“Open your eyes.” She told the men, ignoring Sobel’s heated glare. “Now, Captain Sobel, if you’d do me the honor of helping me with the visual demonstration, we can get you all patched up and back in command in no time.” 

Sobel stayed where he was for a moment, and she could tell he was heavily contemplating his next move. Eventually, he decided to pretend as if it didn’t bother him, opting not to look weak in front of the other men. He walked to the front of the group and hopped up on the table next to where Eleanor stood -- they had set up a table for their demonstrations so that all of the men would be able to better see what she was doing. Generally, these seminars began with lectures, moved on to demonstrations, and then the men would practice with partners on the ground. Sobel laid down on the table, peering up at her through narrowed eyes.

“Get on with it, Lieutenant.” He practically growled, and Eleanor bit her lip to hide her smirk, sharing a knowing glance with Roe. 

“We’re starting with wounds that aren’t likely to be fatal.” She told Sobel. He didn’t seem to understand at first. “Million-dollar wounds.” She added, making a spinning motion with her finger, gesturing for him to turn over. Hoots and hollers erupted from the crowd and Sobel rolled his eyes, turning onto his stomach.

“Is this absolutely necessary, Lieutenant?” He asked, shooting a glare at the men.

“If you’d rather practice it yourself, I could be the one with the ass wound.” She offered, effectively getting him to shut up. “Alright, boys.” She called, looking back out at the group. The men were trying their hardest not to beam, their eyes filled with overwhelming approval. Yes, she had definitely created her place here.

“Step one. Apply pressure.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Eleanor’s leg jiggled anxiously as she sat on one of the benches of an airplane, waiting for it to take off. Easy Company had been jumping off platforms for weeks to practice for this day, and her shins had developed an uncomfortable twinge when she walked on them. Some of the men were talking to those around them, but she couldn’t hear over the roar of the plane’s engines.

She felt a hand rest on her bouncing knee and looked over to see Joe Toye giving her a reassuring smile.

“Feelin’ okay?” He shouted over the noise and Eleanor watched his lips closely in order to interpret it.

“Yeah! Just wanna do it already!” She called back. It was true -- she was nervous, sure. Everyone was. But more than anything, she just wanted to rip it off like a bandaid. Toye nodded his agreement, and the plane finally left the ground. 

“Stand up and hook up!” Dick was yelling before she knew it. She obeyed, standing and reaching up to secure her line. Her adrenaline was rushing now as wind was whipping into the plane from the open door. She continued to bounce around from heel to heel in as contained a manner as she could, revving herself up.  _ Whatever you do, don’t hesitate.  _ She told herself.  _ Once you start moving, just don’t stop at all.  _ The thought of jumping out of a plane with a parachute wasn’t the scariest one she’d conjured, but she still worried that some sort of physical reflex or instinct would cause her to hesitate at the door and get kicked out of the airborne.

The count-off began, and because she was second to last, she felt a tap on her shoulder right away. 

“Eight okay!” She shouted, checking Toye’s equipment and slapping a hand on his shoulder. After the count-off finished, the light turned green and the men began disappearing out the door. She stepped forward each time -- she was so deep in her head at this point, nothing else could’ve snagged her attention for anything in the world. When Toye disappeared outside of the door, she waited the prescribed amount of seconds for his chute to deploy and then, her mind as empty as the sky outside, she walked right off the plane.

The strange sensation of expecting resistance in the free fall and not feeling any made Eleanor’s heart leap into her throat, but after her chute deployed, and she began to glide, she couldn’t stop the shout of pure joy that erupted from her throat. She laughed almost hysterically as she floated toward earth, unable to handle the endorphins that the jump had released in her. It was the single most amazing thing she’d experienced in her life so far. Her laughter subsided as she neared the earth and realized how quickly she was coming in. Bracing herself, she grunted as she hit the ground hard and rolled into the landing she’d practiced dozens of times with Sobel screaming in her ear. She quickly sat up to begin gathering her chute, but the wind pulled at it and knocked her back to the ground, pulling her along with it. She let out a series of “ah”s and “oh”s as the chute dragged her struggling body along the ground. Liebgott and Lipton, who had landed near her, moved to help her, but her grunts of “No, don’t help!” mixed with the dirt she was kicking up as she was dragged right past them. All of the men within a quarter-mile radius laughed at the sight.

Before too long, Eleanor managed to roll onto her feet and plant them on the ground, getting a strong grip on the ropes of her chute. She began pulling it in, and her struggle became easier as the wind died down.

“We did it, Nora.” Liebgott called out to her. “Made our first jump!” Eleanor threw her arms up and let out a victory cry which a few men around her imitated. Eleanor Price had flown.

______________________________________________________________________________

The next four jumps, thankfully, were a lot like the first. Only a couple of Easy Company soldiers had refused any jumps, and Eleanor Price was not one of them. When all five jumps had been completed, it was time for the company to receive their jump wings. After the ceremony in which each set of wings was awarded, there was a celebration that was practically mandatory. Even Winters, who didn’t drink, would be in attendance at the pub for a while to celebrate the achievement. That being said, it took only a little bit of pleading from the men before Eleanor promised her own attendance.

The men were, of course, ecstatic about this because Eleanor had never joined them for social purposes before. Eleanor had been itching to wear a dress, but she didn’t want to set herself apart from the men too much on this special occasion. For this reason, she displayed her jump wings proudly on her dress uniform (the skirt and blazer had needed ironing badly when she finally pulled them from her trunk) as she stepped into the darkened pub. Despite not being able to dress the way she wanted to, it felt good to put makeup on and she’d perhaps gone a little bit overboard for the occasion with bright red lipstick. Her chestnut hair had also been let down, perhaps for the first time since she’d met the men, laying under her cap in loose pageboy waves that cascaded over her shoulders in a highly-controlled shape. 

“Hey hey, would you get a load of this bird!” Luz called out as she walked in the door, causing a room full of heads to turn toward her. Eleanor rolled her eyes in distaste as the men hooted and hollered at her, though a mild blush rose to her cheeks. 

“Thank you, Luz.” She teased as she approached him at the bar after weaving through the crowd.

“You look gorgeous, doll.” Toye told her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. Eleanor gave him a lopsided smile. It was clear from the sheen of Toye’s eyes that the men had already begun to partake in the night’s festivities. 

“Here you go, Nora. I’ve been saving this one just for you.” Luz insisted, pushing a pint of beer across the wooden surface toward her. 

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly.” She called over the noise, pushing it away from her slightly. She wanted to, but she wasn’t sure about drinking with the men -- she’d been very careful to keep herself from doing anything too foolish or inappropriate and just a tad too much alcohol would certainly ruin that. She didn’t need a reason to be sent home -- especially not after coming this far.

“Come on, Nora.” Liebgott coaxed, appearing behind her and placing his arm around Eleanor’s shoulders after pulling Toye’s arm off. “Let loose a bit. You never come out with us. Come sit. Here, I’ll get your drink. Come sit.” He insisted, picking up her drink and guiding her in the direction of a table.

“Nora!” The men called in greeting as they reached the table. Eleanor gave an uncertain smile and struggled to climb onto the middle of a bench seat in her uniform skirt as the men parted and gave her a space. Lipton grabbed her hand to steady her, and she thanked him as she managed to sit between him and Malarkey. Among those sitting at the long table were Guarnere, Perconte, Randleman, Muck, and Talbert. 

“Here’s your drink, Nora!” Liebgott reminded her as he settled back into his seat across the table. The men slid the drink in front of her and waited, watching her in anticipation. Eleanor straightened her back and picked the pint up, toasting them briefly before lifting it to her lips. She took a few long swigs before placing it back down on the table with a “clink.” The men cheered. She decided that, given that she could hold her alcohol pretty well, she could limit herself to this one pint and be fine. By halfway through the pint, she was the life of the party, in the perfect place between losing her inhibitions and losing control of her faculties. Her table, much like the others, was constantly erupting in shouts and laughter.

Sobel, Winters, and the higher command, including Colonel Sink, showed up to make an appearance, and Colonel Sink gave a congratulatory speech before turning the party back over to Easy Company. When Eleanor saw that Winters and Nixon had settled at a small table in the corner, she excused herself to go and sit with them for a while. While she’d become fast friends with the other men, she still felt most comfortable with her two fellow lieutenants -- the ones who had accepted her from the beginning. Winters’ cool, quiet presence was comforting and Nixon’s mischievous and laid back qualities made him easy to have a conversation with. 

“Look at you, Nora!” Nixon exclaimed as she approached them. “You look great!” 

“Oh, come on. I’m practically wearing the same thing as everyone else.” She replied, down-playing the compliment as she sat down.

“You look lovely, Nora.” Winters agreed quietly. Eleanor did not expect the reassurance from Dick Winters and felt her face heat up. In the case of everyone else, she could at least brush it off as teasing. But Dick wouldn’t tease her in such a way -- faced with a genuine compliment that she couldn’t brush off, she tried to respond gracefully.

“Thank you, gentlemen.” She murmured, allowing the conversation to move on. 

“Say, do you think you’re the first woman to jump out of a plane?” Nixon asked. Nora shrugged a shoulder and took a sip of her drink, which she now silently wished she’d left behind, seeing Winters’ empty hands. 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” She replied, eyeing the familiar flask Nixon was drinking from. “I could get you a beer if you want one, Nix.” She offered, gesturing behind her to the bar on the other side of the room where Luz was still making a fool of himself. Nixon gave a strained smile and shook his head politely.

“Thanks, Nora. I think I’ll stick with my own.” He replied, holding up the flask as if to toast her.  _ Of course you will,  _ she thought to herself. She exchanged a knowing glance with Dick and knew that he was thinking the same thing. Pushing her concerns about Nixon from her mind, she threw back what was left of her own drink and changed the subject.

“When do we leave for Camp MacKall?” She asked.

“Monday.” Winters replied. “We’ll be working on mostly tactical stuff there. Probably won’t be long after that we ship out.” He added. Eleanor nodded. She was still in control of her actions and her motor skills, but she was beginning to have trouble grasping at her thoughts and recognized the beginnings of tipsiness. The table had grown quiet at Winters’ mention of shipping out, each person deep in their own thoughts. Nora stood up suddenly, placing her hands on the table to steady herself, just in case.

“Which one of you wants to walk me home?” She asked, earning a snicker from both men. Nixon gave a look as if to say he didn’t mind, but Winters stood before he said anything.

“I’ll take her.” He offered. “I wasn’t planning to stay long anyway.” 

“Alright, goodnight you two.” Nixon called with a good-natured laugh. Dick came around the table and offered his arm to Nora who was thankful to take it, just in case her motor skills weren’t quite what she’d thought. After saying goodnight to the men of Easy, Nora returned to her quarters. Despite the cloudiness in her brain, the last thing that crossed her mind before she slept was a solemn question: how long would it be before she was in combat?


	4. Chapter 4

Nora’s ten-day leave had been a breath of fresh air, although she hadn’t been able to relax as much as she would’ve liked. Her parents’ excitement at having her home had made them almost manic with activity and she’d spent her days going places and visiting people with them. She often found herself stopping to wonder what the other men were doing with their time off. She knew a lot about their lives from conversation but she’d often try to picture them -- it was strange to be constantly around people who were becoming your best friends but not know their families. For this reason, she didn’t think it too strange that she imagined their home lives based on the details and pictures that had been shared.

Winters was probably spending time with his parents, just like her. Malarkey was probably getting into trouble in Oregon, spending time wooing Bernice. Nixon was likely at some fancy soiree that his family was throwing. Yes, the men were probably having much more exciting breaks than her, but she found she didn’t care because the familiarity of her old life had felt good. Mundane had felt good.

Just as Winters had said, Easy Company was on it’s way to Camp MacKall pretty much the minute they returned from leave. As much as Nora enjoyed her break, she was antsy to get back and keep training. Camp MacKall involved more tactical training and she was able to spend time with the men out on the field, working on maneuvers. To her delight, this is where she learned that Captain Sobel had another glaring weakness apart from his attitude: he had no concept of strategy and made mistakes rather easily under pressure. He was consistently getting members of Easy “killed” and the longer it went on, the less it seemed like a joke and the more it became like a nightmare. 

Nora was just beginning to get used to Camp MacKall when news came that it was time to ship out and they received orders to pack up. As she packed, she wondered what the sleeping arrangements overseas would look like. She’d been lucky to receive the accommodations she had at both Toccoa and MacKall; she knew where all of this was leading and that she’d eventually be in close quarters with the men when the division entered combat. But she couldn’t help but hope that, until then, she would retain her privacy.

Her fear was realized sooner than she’d anticipated when she boarded the ship that would be taking the 506th to its destination -- England. The ship was extremely overcrowded, and the sleeping arrangements consisted of one giant room with cots built on top of each other against the walls. The officers had a separate space, but the arrangement was similar and it didn’t seem like there was a private place anywhere on the boat. She wasn’t sure where she was  _ supposed  _ to be, but thought she might blend into the bigger space better.

“Care to point me to an empty bed, fellas?” She called, dropping her giant duffle on the ground in Easy’s territory. The men sitting on the bottom bunks looked up at her, and various heads popped out of the bunks above to look at her in surprise.

“They got you sleepin’ in here, bird?” Bull asked around his cigar, sending a concerned look over his hand of playing cards.

“They haven’t got me sleepin’ anywhere, Bull. I’m making a place.” She insisted confidently. 

“Up ‘ere, Nora!” Malarkey called. Nora began climbing up the bunks and on the third row up, found Malarkey laying against the wall with a magazine in hand. The bunks were two-deep, so she’d be sleeping next to someone no matter what, but the cot’s edges were clearly defined, giving her the illusion of having her own space. She climbed up on the outside cot, ducking her head down in order to fit in the cramped space. The next two cots down held Muck and Guarnere, who were watching her, unsure what to think about the situation.

“Here, bird, why don’t you switch me.” Malarkey suggested, ever the gentleman. While she hated the idea of sleeping on the inside cot (what if she had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night?), it would likely be a safer option for her first night sleeping in the general population. She’d already had her backside pinched about five times by soldiers from other companies since she’d gotten on the ship, and while she liked to think none of them were capable of hurting her, the truth was that Easy Company men were the only ones she knew enough to trust. And they would keep anyone from bothering her. With that thought, she nodded gratefully and made the switch with Malarkey, moving to sit against the wall. She watched as the men passed the duffle she’d left behind up past her cot and to the cargo net hanging above the bunks. 

“Just a warning, Nora, I sleep in the buff.” Muck told her with his signature smile.

“Like hell ya do.” Guarnere spat, causing Nora and Malarkey to chuckle heartily. 

 

As strange as it was, Nora couldn’t help but acknowledge that there was a certain excitement about sharing in the men’s experiences in this way. She had the thrilling feeling of breaking some kind of rule, but in a largely risk-free scenario, and that made sleeping in the cots kind of fun for her, despite the overwhelming smell of sweat and the rocking of the ship, which were enough to make anyone sick. 

“Nora? Nora Price?” She heard a voice calling, just as many of the men were starting to settle down for the night. The men around her were already laying down, speaking in low voices to each other as they fell asleep. Nora leaned over Malarkey on her hands and knees and looked over the edge of his cot to find Nixon staring up at her incredulously. “Where the hell have you been?” He asked.

“Right here.” She replied simply, thinking that it should have been obvious.

“Come down from there. We’ve got a place for you in the officers’ room.” He told her. She turned to look at the guys, who were all gazing up at her expectantly. 

“Oh, so  _ now  _ I’m an officer?” She retorted, causing the men around her to snicker. 

“Eleanor Price.” He reprimanded, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re really going to sleep in here with all these men?”

“It’s these men or those men.” She replied with a shrug of her shoulder, nodding her head in the direction of the officers’ cabin. “I’m fine right here, thank you. Goodnight Lewis.” She called sweetly. He shook his head in disbelief and said something to Bull, who was on a bottom bunk, along the lines of watching out for her, before he made his exit. 

“That’s sweet and all, but can you go to sleep already?” Guarnere asked, and she swatted at his head before settling back into her cot for the night.

* * *

  
  


Eleanor fell in love with Aldbourne the moment she arrived. It had the quaint feel of a small village, but there was still more to do than there had been at both Toccoa and MacKall. She also thoroughly enjoyed the setup of being quartered with British families. The elderly couple she was staying with, the Davies, were accommodating and personable, and were just about the wisest people she’d ever known. Sometimes she honestly enjoyed staying in and chewing the fat with them over walking around town with the men. 

Training was another thing about Aldbourne that Nora was smitten with. Having received so much medical training already, she and Roe were freed up to join the others in combat training and the practicing of maneuvers. She was finally rubbing elbows with all of the men during training and was able to participate in activities that she actually enjoyed, like learning about fighting, firearms, and, above all, battle strategy. 

She found she was learning a lot from Lieutenant Winters, whose team she was often selected for during practice maneuvers. While she was sorry to miss Sobel being made a fool of by Luz (a story she’d asked to hear dozens of times over), she was happy to be on a team where she was able to observe and learn as she practiced. Winters was a smart man who made sensible and wise decisions even under (simulated) distress. He also treated her as an equal, delegating responsibility to her when appropriate and refraining from “over-explaining” things to her. He expected her to know and understand just as much as the other men.

Winters’ unfailing integrity and leadership skills made it so that the men felt increasingly loyal to him. When news that Sobel had court-martialed Winters trickled down through the company, they all, including Nora, were understandably displeased. As unfair as it was, however, Nora knew she couldn’t jeopardize her career in Easy Company by joining in the growing movement of discontented men. So she proudly, albeit a bit cowardly, watched as a few men took a stand that, in the end, persuaded Colonel Sink to send Captain Sobel packing. 

After Sobel’s transfer for Chilton-Foliat, everything in Aldbourne moved much faster. Preparations for operation D-Day were becoming more intense and Nora spent much of her time outside of training staring at and attempting to memorize geographical layouts of France. She was loathe to admit that navigating seemed to be her number one weakness and she wanted to make sure she was on par. At this point, keeping up with the men was the last thing on her mind -- she wanted to know what she was doing so that she could survive in situations where she couldn’t depend on others. The looming uncertainty of when the invasion would be and what it would look like kept her intent on focusing. 

It was this tension that made the men persuade her to come out with them again --this time, they insisted, it would be a real night out and not a military party (although, Nora argued, with a tavern that was certain to be full of paratroopers, the difference was miniscule). Nora remembered the good that celebrating with the men had done when she was back in America and decided that a night out (and the illusion of normalcy) could only help.

With that hope in mind, she set out to find a dress and, after settling on a green satin number that she’d found at a local consignment shop in Aldbourne, she had a tailor make a few adjustments. She let her hair down and, not having even a cap to hide it away this time, she took time to ensure that her hair was curled evenly all over and coiffed just right. She applied evening makeup as well, opting for a darker red lip than last time. She was surprised when, after strapping on her heels, looking in the mirror felt like a breath of fresh air. Yes, this had been a good idea after all. She felt better just having gotten dolled up. She heard a knock and grabbed her pocketbook, walking into the front room to greet a dapper-looking George Luz, whose expression resembled a trout when he saw her.

“You look lovely, dear.” Mrs. Davies, who had greeted Luz at the door, told her.

“I second that.” Luz added. Color rose into Nora’s cheeks and she changed the subject by bidding the Davies goodnight. She took Luz’s arm and allowed him to lead her to the tavern. After he took a moment to get over his shock at seeing her out of uniform, he became his usual comedian self and kept her entertained all the way there.

* * *

  
  


“Hot damn!” Muck exclaimed as Nora entered the bar on Luz’s arm. Many of the men from Easy stood up and pulled off their caps as she approached. She smiled and nodded to them in greeting, gesturing for them to sit down.

“You clean up really nice.” David Webster seconded him with a shy smile.

“Thank you, sirs.” She told them, feigning confidence as she sat down to join them. Luz sat down next to her, and Toye excused himself from the table, insisting that he ‘get a drink for the young lady.’

“Seriously, though, Bird.” Guarnere told her, taking a sip of his beer and setting it back down. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” 

“Well, I’m sure I won’t be by the end of the night. I was given to understand that there would be dancing here?” She replied, and the men’s eyes lit up in excitement.

“Hell yeah, there is. I’ll get them to put on some music.” Guarnere responded before making his way over to the bar. Toye returned with her drink and she took a few sips. She may have felt subconscious about her appearance, but she certainly wasn’t afraid to dance. It was one of her favorite things to do back home, and the one thing she had sorely missed at the jump wings party back at Toccoa. She’d worn feminine but practical heels in recognition of the fact that, if she were to dance, she’d likely be expected to dance with just about everyone. And boy, was she right about that.

Nora must have danced to twenty songs before the men allowed her to excuse herself for the night. She charged the atmosphere with energy as men from both Easy and Dog Company watched her dance different styles with different men, clapping along to the upbeat songs. Everyone wanted a chance to dance with the girl in the green dress. And, if they allowed their mind to drift back to reality, they took mental pictures of her, her loose hair flipping over her shoulders and the satin skirt of her dress twirling around her legs. Images that they could recall on the darkest, most painful nights ahead of them. D-Day was coming.

* * *

  
  


Eleanor groaned at Lieutenant Meehan’s words and shucked her pack off her shoulders, dropping it to the ground.  _ No jump tonight. _

As scary as the invasion ahead of them was, the anticipation was even worse. They’d gotten all ready to go, only for it to be postponed at the last possible moment. It didn’t help that the movie shown in order to “take their minds off of it” was the same tired Cary Grant film they’d watched at least half a dozen times since coming to Aldbourne. It did nothing to take her mind off the agonizing wait, and she hardly slept a wink that night, despite the fact that she desperately wanted and needed to rest before the big jump into Normandy.

The next day, when orders came to begin suiting up and preparing for the jump, Nora wasn’t so sure it would happen after the previous false alarm. However, she stayed near Lieutenant Meehan in the preparation process, and he insisted that this time would be the real deal. Nora tried not to be bitter about the fact that she’d been put in Meehan’s plane with a bunch of men from HQ. The idea made enough sense -- If she stayed with the men who would be making up battalion headquarters, there would be no getting lost and she would be there to begin setting up first aid stations for the men who would need medical attention when they arrived. However, she felt deep down that this was just another under-the-table special measure that was taken to keep her safe. Naturally, she didn’t feel too good about getting survival advantages over the men she’d grown to love in the last two years.

It wasn’t until Eleanor Price was sitting on the plane next to her commanding officer that she understood the gravity of what was happening and all other concerns faded away. In just a few short hours, she would be dropping from the sky into a warzone.


	5. Chapter 5

Eleanor cringed and ducked her head down as the plane shook violently. Clinging to her seat for dear life, she pivoted and glanced out the door to see orange and white light appearing and swirling in the night sky. “Stand up and hook up!” Lieutenant Meehan commanded, before he turned on unsteady feet and began to, it appeared, argue with the pilots in the front. Eleanor carefully pulled herself to her feet, keeping one hand braced on the side of the plane, as she reached up and tried to hook her line to the rail above her head. As the plane continued to jerk around in turbulence, she missed two or three times before she managed to successfully hook it in and tug on it for confirmation. She would be the first to jump and was watching the red light in front of her like a hawk. The plane lurched violently and, had she not been hooked in, she would’ve been flattened to the aircraft’s floor. She was suddenly overcome with the desire to take her chances outside amidst the chaos, rather than stay inside the plane any longer.

That instinct solidified as Meehan looked out a side window and then turned back to her with wide eyes. Before she could ask for orders, Meehan had grabbed her by her pack straps and shoved her roughly out the door. As she fell through the opening, the light turned green from the corner of her eye, giving the others the go ahead to evacuate. Her heart hammered in relief as her freefall was broken after what felt like an eternity and she was jerked upward as her chute deployed and spread above her. Her relief was immediately shattered, however, as the chaotic sounds erupting all around her came back into focus and she looked up, her eyes widening in horror. Rather than seeing the chutes of her plane-mates floating above her, she watched as the plane exploded into a ball of flames.

“No!” A shout erupted from her throat as she shielded her eyes from the bright flames. Her concern for her comrades quickly faded into concern for herself as she flinched at the debris that began raining down around her. “No, no, no, no, no.” She began to mutter to herself as she flailed in different directions, trying to avoid the burning debris. She looked down at the ground to see if she could navigate where she was supposed to be landing, but couldn’t see any of the markers that the pathfinders had laid to mark the drop zone. Aside from the moments when occasional bursts of fire lit up the night, everything below was pitch dark. A cry of surprise ripped out of Eleanor’s throat as her parachute jerked abruptly and then she felt herself accelerating toward the earth again. She was falling too quickly. Looking up, she could just barely make out the growing holes in her chute, lined with an orange glow. It must have caught fire from some of the falling debris of her plane.

_ I’m gonna die. I’m gonna hit the ground. I’m going to die.  _ She thought frantically, trying desperately to get a good look at the ground which was quickly approaching. Enough of her chute was intact that she was still coming in at an angle, but much too quickly to survive the impact. Or, at the very least, she thought, she’d be stuck on the ground in enemy territory with two broken legs. She continued to pick up speed and let out a scream of panic as she found that she still couldn’t make out where she was landing. When she had just resigned herself to the fact that pain was coming, a glimmer of light below caught her eye. For a moment, she thought she was witnessing an explosion below her and her heart rate sped up even more.

However, when she heard the noise that accompanied the explosion, she looked up and saw the remnants of it in the sky through the widening gaps in her chute. Her gaze immediately snapped back down to the ground. It was a reflection. She was passing over water. Without a moment’s hesitation, she began to release the straps that were keeping her tethered to her chute.

“Please, God.” She whispered a few times, before finally releasing the last strap and plummeting into the darkness below. The impact with the water was painful, but welcome when compared to the alternative. The force of the impact caused her to gasp and her mouth and nose immediately filled with water. Stretching out her arms, she tried to propel herself back toward the surface, expecting to be close already, but she soon discovered that she had fallen quite a ways down and the weight of her leg bag, which she thought was going to fall off in the air, was dragging her down even further. She pulled frantically at the strap, trying to find the release. The men had spent twenty minutes teaching her how to fasten the strange contraption (after they’d spent an hour trying to figure it out themselves). Thankfully, the bag was easier to get off than it was to put on, and Eleanor managed to pull it loose in a matter of seconds and flail her way back to the surface.

She tried to take in a big gulp of air as she broke the surface, but the water that had already entered her system caused her to cough and choke violently. Trying to calm the burning in her lungs by taking in shallower breaths, Eleanor turned in the water, trying to make out which way she should be swimming to get back to land quickly. She was fairly close to the edge of the small lake. She swam a few yards before the water became shallow enough to walk and took a moment to let the Jell-O feeling in her legs pass. When she finally began trudging toward shore again, her boots sank deeply in the mud and it was difficult to lift her feet – this pond was flooded, and it was like walking through a swamp. As the shock of surviving her near-death experience wore off, she became increasingly more aware of the fact that she was now alone in enemy territory. There was a tree-line nearby, and she decided she needed to get to the woods for cover before pulling out her map and trying to sort out where exactly she’d landed. She pulled her rifle off of her back, holding it across her chest as she went along. She’d need to inspect it later – the water had likely ruined any chance she had of shooting it now. Considering this, she pulled her bayonet blade out of its sheath on her hip and snapped it into place on the end of the rifle’s barrel.

As she continued to walk, her wet uniform weighing heavily on her, the water level petered out and she was soon hiking up a small bank, covered in tall weeds. She froze in her place as she heard footsteps approaching from over the crest of the bank and lowered herself into the weeds, bayonet at the ready. She saw the silhouette of a person just a few short feet away, who had also frozen in the dark. She hesitated, considering using the code word. She needed to see if this was one of her own men, but if he wasn’t, she would give herself away and she didn’t know if she could charge this man with nothing but a bayonet.

“Flash.” A whisper pierced through the dark, and the ache in Eleanor’s chest dissipated in relief.

“Thunder.” She whispered back, standing up to reveal herself. She approached the man, trying to make his face out through the black paint they’d all rubbed onto their cheeks. She stopped short when she recognized him as Lieutenant Speirs.

“It’s good to see you, Sir.” She admitted, despite her surprise at seeing him and not one of her own Easy Company comrades. “Lieutenant Price, E Company medic.” She told him.

“I know who you are.” He replied matter-of-factly. Eleanor felt sheepish – she’d definitely made eye contact with him and even spoken to him during her time in Toccoa and England, but she had never been formally introduced to him.

“Are you in the wrong drop zone, or am I?” She asked, trying to break the ice again. Dog Company and Easy Company had separate drop zones and would be meeting at the rendezvous point later.

“We both are.” He answered simply. “We need to keep moving.” He continued, glancing at the tree line. “The noise could have drawn enemy attention.” He began, walking toward the woods at a brisk pace, not waiting for her to follow.

“What noise?” Eleanor asked, rushing to fall into step next to him. He gave her a sidelong glance that looked almost amused.

“What do you think brought me over here? You didn’t exactly come in quietly.” He informed her.

“Oh.” Eleanor said, glad that her face was streaked with paint and mud to disguise the heat that flushed into her cheeks. “Well, I didn’t exactly come in with a chute.” She retorted.

“I saw.” He replied, his eyes still trained on the space ahead of them as they entered the woods. Eleanor mentally chastised herself, forcing herself to survey their surroundings, too. “Where’s the rest of your plane?”

“Gone.” She replied simply. She couldn’t definitively say, but she figured that if anyone had managed to get out of that explosion, she would’ve seen them on the way down.

“How’d you get out?” He asked quietly.

“Meehan.” She whispered. Speirs seemed to understand, because he didn’t question her any further, although he did shoot her another sideways glance, as if he was anxiously anticipating for her to burst into tears. Eleanor hadn’t had the chance to mourn for her plane mates or feel survivor’s guilt over the way Meehan had saved her yet. And although things had quieted down, and it was worming its way back into her mind, she knew that this still wasn’t the time or place. She did her best to turn her feelings off like a switch. She could turn them back on later and release the pain.

“So I’m assuming you know where we’re going?” She whispered after another moment. He gave a curt nod. He did a complete 360, surveying the area before slowing to a stop and gesturing for her to do the same.

“What do you have on you?” He asked, looking her up and down as if seeking to answer the question on his own.

“Not much.” She replied, turning to face him. “I lost my leg bag in the pond.” She informed him, noticing that his was gone as well. Why had they been forced to wear those stupid leg bags? “Aside from the rifle, I’ve got my hand gun. Both are full of water, I’m sure. I lost my medic bag, but I packed a couple extra syrettes of morphine and a bandage roll in my pockets, just in case. It’ll have to do until we hit the rendezvous point—I can make a new medic kit out of supplies I bum from the other companies.” Eleanor explained, patting the various pockets on her soaked uniform to make sure she was accounting for everything.

“Good. I’ll look at your guns-- you sit down for a minute and bandage that up.” He told her, his eyes traveling up to a spot on the sliver of forehead that showed underneath her helmet. Eleanor’s eyebrows furrowed, and she reached up to touch the spot. She was surprised when her fingers came back wet with blood.  

“Oh.” She breathed. “Must’ve gotten hit by debris on the way down.” She said. With all of the adrenaline rushing through her system, she hadn’t even felt it. She handed her rifle over to Speirs and then reached up to unstrap her helmet. She hesitated, unsure that she wanted to pull it off just yet.

“Go ahead. I’m keeping an eye out.” Speirs told her. With that encouragement, she pulled her helmet off and sighed as her head could finally breathe in the cool night air. Her hair, which had been bunched and tied tight against her head to keep it under her helmet, was now weighed down heavily with water. She took a moment to let it down, wringing it out over her shoulder. Speirs watched for a few moments before turning his attention to her weapon, which he began to dismantle and inspect, looking up and around every few moments to make sure that the two were still alone.

Eleanor opted to leave her hair down for now so that it could dry. Reaching up, she prodded at the cut on her head a bit more, trying to feel how long and deep it was. It wasn’t long, but it was a little deeper than she originally thought. She decided that it could certainly do without stitches. She felt around in her pockets and pulled out her roll of bandaging. It was the smallest she’d had, which was why it had been the one to end up in her pocket and not in the bag with the rest. She didn’t have any butterfly strips, which was what the cut really needed, so if she wanted to bandage it, she would have to wrap this bandaging around her head a few times to stop the bleeding. It was a waste of bandage that may be needed if they came across someone worse off, or if Speirs managed to obtain a wound on say, his leg or abdomen. Eleanor contemplated as she watched the man who was now kneeling on the ground, changing out the wet gunpowder for dry gunpowder on her rifle. She was here to make sure the men made it out alive; she needed to be prepared for anything. She decided that she would leave the cut for now, as chances were it would clot on its own, and then she could reevaluate if it continued to bleed. She used the sleeve of her wet uniform to dab away the blood as best she could before putting her helmet back on over her frizzy waves.

She pulled her handgun out of a holster on her leg and opened the different chambers, inspecting it. It didn’t appear to be too bad – it would dry out. Her rifle would have to do until then. When she looked back up from her pistol, tucking it into its holster, Speirs was watching her, having finished fixing her rifle. His brows were furrowed. “You need me to bandage it for you?” He asked, handing her back her rifle.

“No, it’s not as bad as it looks. Besides, we should keep moving.” She insisted.

“It’s bleeding a lot.” He told her, his eyes narrowing with uncertainty.

“Head cuts do that. It’ll close up on its own.” She told him matter-of-factly, beginning to walk in the direction they had been heading. Speirs sighed before moving to follow her. He caught up to her and began to lead the way through the woods again, keeping an eye on his compass. Eleanor knew that she should be applying pressure to the cut on her head for the next few minutes, but she ignored that instinct because of the need she also felt to keep her rifle raised and ready.

* * *

 

Forty-five minutes later, Eleanor was having trouble staying alert.

“How much longer do you think it’ll be before we get to the rendezvous point?” She asked.

“A couple of hours at least.” Speirs asked, glancing at her curiously. “Probably not until after sun-up. Need a break?”

“No. Just wondering.” She mumbled. It was getting hard for her to pick her feet up and put one in front of the other, and she was battling the dizziness that was setting in.

“You’re still bleeding.” Speirs announced, stopping and grabbing her arm.

“Just barely.” She told him. “I’m fine.”

“You need to sit down for a minute.” He insisted.

“I need to find Easy.” She retorted. The blood loss was clearly affecting her mood as well, as quick as she was to talk back to him.

“Don’t be foolish, lieutenant.” He countered sternly. “We’re going to take a fifteen minute break and bandage that wound.”

Eleanor sighed and nodded, too weak to argue with the man. Speirs led her over to a fallen log and gestured for her to sit down. She obeyed, pulling the roll of bandaging out and placing it in his waiting palm.

“Got anything to clean it up with?” He asked, pulling her helmet off to inspect the cut. Eleanor shook her head. Remembering the canteen hanging on his pack, he put a dab of water on the end of the gauze and pressed it against her head for a minute. After cleaning it and applying pressure for a few moments, he unrolled the bandage and wrapped it around her head. After wrapping it up tight and placing her helmet back on her head, Speirs sat down on the log next to her, and the two sat in silence.

“Water?” He asked, holding the canteen out to her. Eleanor accepted it, to his surprise, and took a couple of small swigs before handing it back.

“Thanks.” She whispered. It was quiet for another long moment before she spoke again. “You’d think we would have run into someone else by now.” She said quietly.

“I’m sure the others are fine. Probably landed closer to the DZ than we did.” He replied, knowing that she was concerned for the men of Easy Company. Eleanor recognized that he was probably right – they were likely more concerned about  _ her, _ if anyone had seen her plane explode. Eleanor suddenly sat up straighter as a thought occurred to her.

“Why aren’t you with the other men from your plane?” She questioned.

“I was the last one out. My hookup got jammed, and it took me a minute to sort it out.” He answered. That certainly explained how he ended up so far away from his men. Eleanor didn’t know what to make of Speirs. In Toccoa, she had always been intimidated by him – he had a very serious presence. Now, in the woodlands of France, he didn’t seem so intimidating. Perhaps the nature of a combat zone was enough to make her care less about such things.

Eleanor was torn from her thoughts when the sound of footsteps approaching caused her and Speirs’ spines to stiffen. She immediately lifted her rifle, but Speirs got to his feet, keeping low, and gestured for her to stay behind him. Being medical personnel, she wasn’t supposed to use her gun unless it was for self-defense. She might not have even been given the two firearms she had if it weren’t for the fact that her superiors, all the way up to Colonel Sink, were concerned about her survival.  

Readying himself, Speirs whispered “Flash,” and Eleanor waited with baited breath. The movement stopped and the area was quiet for a long moment. When the next sound broke out, it wasn’t from the same place, where Speirs and Eleanor’s attention was trained. Instead, it came from behind Eleanor, as a large figure pushed through the brush and wrapped an arm around her neck and shoulders, jerking her backwards. A choked cry erupted from her throat and Ron turned to see to her momentarily, before getting distracted by the other German soldier who ambushed him from the front. Eleanor saw Speirs and the other soldier facing off with each other, guns raised, as she dropped her rifle and struggled against the man trying to apprehend her. Wanting to remember the scant amount of combat she’d learned, she forced her body to relax for a moment and his hold on her tightened. Her struggling had knocked the man’s handgun out of his grip, and he now wrapped both arms around her in a bear hug, restraining her. He was shouting in German to his comrade, who had by now engaged in a scuffle with Speirs. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Eleanor brought her arm up as far as she could before shifting her body to the right and bringing her fist back down into the man’s groin. The impact was only enough to make the man groan and lean forward, but it brought his head close enough for Eleanor to throw her own head back into his face, as she’d been taught. She heard a crack that she assumed was his nose breaking, and he released her, reaching up to grab at his face. Eleanor stumbled forward for her rifle, managing to grab it and turn around just as the soldier descended on her in a rough tackle. He forced the rifle into a horizontal position and pushed it toward her neck, as she gripped it and attempted to push it back toward him. He was gaining ground and she felt the metal barrel begin to constrict her breathing as she struggled against the larger man. Just as she began to see black edges encroaching on her vision, a gunshot rang out and the man above her flinched, reacting to it. She took this moment to force the muzzle of her own rifle upward, away from herself, and pulled the trigger. The man’s head flew back from the impact and she felt a shocking amount of blood rain down on her as the man went limp on top of her. 

The night grew eerily quiet again, and fear gripped Eleanor at the thought of being alone again, or worse, alone with the other soldier. “Lieutenant?” She called out, struggling to push the man off of her. She gasped in relief as the man was shoved off of her and Speirs’ face appeared above her. He offered her a hand up, and she took it, glancing over at the other soldier who also lay on the ground, apparently dead. The gunshot that had distracted her opponent must’ve been the one that ended his friend’s life. 

“Are you wounded?” Speirs asked, giving her a wary once-over. The two were struggling to catch their breath.

“No, I’m alright. You?” She questioned back, resisting her medic’s instinct to start prodding at him to feel for injuries. 

“I’m fine. We need to get moving. There are probably other krauts in the area and they’ll be attracted by the gunfire.” He insisted hurriedly, reaching down to pick up Eleanor’s rifle and handing it to her. Eleanor nodded and followed him through the woods, jumping at every twig snap that didn’t sound like it was coming from either of them. She was on high alert, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. She hadn’t come to the war in Europe expecting not to take any lives, although it was common and normal for medical personnel to walk away without doing so. However, she certainly didn’t imagine that if she did have to take a life, it’d be within a couple hours of landing in Normandy. 

“Why do you think he ignored my medical badge?” She dared to whisper after another half hour of walking with no sign of danger. Speirs slowed his pace and spared a glance back at her before training his eyes back on the path he was forging forward. 

“I don’t know. Saw you with me and thought you’d make good leverage? To make me go without a fight. Seemed like they wanted to take us prisoner.” He contemplated aloud. Eleanor nodded, swallowing hard as she processed it. It made sense -- after all, the man who’d gotten the leg-up on her could have simply shot her in the back of the head and ended it without a fight. Knowing now that he’d chosen another path made a lump rise in her throat. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so eager to pull the trigger herself. 

“You did good back there.” Speirs assured her after her prolonged silence. “I’m sure you won’t get into many more situations like that. Most respect the badge.” 

“Thanks.” She said. She was just relieved that she hadn’t had to take on both of them alone. Relieved that she still had Speirs to guide her to the rendezvous point.

 

* * *

 

Lt. Ronald Speirs, suffice it to say, was impressed. Not only had the woman trailing behind him managed to get to the earth in one piece -- she had also shown a surprising amount of determination to get to the rendezvous point and help her men. Then, in the midst of an ambush, she had managed to escape from and kill her attacker, only to continue calmly following orders with the man’s blood smeared across her face. She had obviously struggled against the German soldier and might not have walked away from the scuffle if not for a stroke of luck, but he thought for sure she’d crumble at the first sight of death -- any death, let alone one that she’d caused.  

He didn’t like that she continued to walk behind him, despite the fact that she’d been surprised from behind only a short while ago, but it still felt more dangerous to have her running point and traipsing head-first into unknown areas. Besides, he was the one navigating the way to their destination.

 “Stay close” He murmured over his shoulder, making certain to issue it as a command and not the paranoid request that it actually was. Speirs had only spent a few hours with this woman, but it didn’t matter how well he knew her --she was a woman. Some evolutionary mechanism in him was screaming for him to put her safety first, and he was beginning to understand why the army had taken so long to test out a female in the ranks. He was relieved at the mere thought of getting Eleanor Price to the rendezvous point and unloading her on Easy Company, where she would become their charge.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Eleanor adjusted the pack on her shoulders as she continued to trudge behind Speirs through the woods of Normandy. Dawn was approaching, and they needed to get to the rendezvous point soon. Thankfully, they hadn’t had any more incidents like the one with the two Germans they had encountered earlier that morning.

“Need to check the bearing?” She spoke in a low tone when Speirs slowed to a stop. She halted right behind him, looking over his shoulder for signs of danger.

“Yeah, better do it, just in case. We should be really close.” He murmured, pulling out his mini compass. Eleanor unfolded the map as they kneeled. They had made an efficient team over the last few hours, to Speirs’ delight. It helped that she talked much less than the average female Speirs has encountered in his life. He didn’t think she was shy or soft spoken, though. He’d seen her laughing and carrying on with the men of Easy in various mess halls over the last three years. Rather, she seemed to be intensely focused. Always thinking, always observing. Then again, who wasn’t like that in enemy territory? That’s how you survived.

“Looks like we’ve shifted northeast just a hair.” she murmured, her brow furrowed as she shifted closer to him in order to view both the compass and the map. Speirs gave a curt nod.

“If we correct, we should be there in just another few minutes. We’re only about a mile out.” He added. Eleanor was nodding quickly, excited and also in fear of the prospect of seeing her company. Who would be there? Who would be missing? And who might need her help right now?

“We should pick up the pace.” She replied, folding the map back up and stuffing it into her pocket as she rose to her feet. Speirs nodded as he rose also, but his eyes flickered to the bandage peeking out of her helmet, uncertain.

“It’s better. Stopped bleeding. Let’s go.” She insisted before he could ask, this time taking the lead in an attempt to correct their course. Speirs followed behind, keeping his rifle at the ready, just in case.

* * *

Eleanor’s heart was pounding hard as she and Speirs finally walked into the base camp where the soldiers were looking for their platoons left and right. She stopped short when she didn’t immediately see any Easy men. Speirs took notice and placed a hand on her back, urging her forward with him. 

“Come on,” he told her “let’s find some officers and see what the plan is.” She nodded, as his hand on her back effectively grounded her and brought her back to the task at hand.

Eleanor could have cried when she saw Dick Winters’ auburn hair reflecting sunlight up ahead, and she picked up the pace, practically jogging by the time she reached him and Buck Compton. She slowed as she reached them, unsure of how to greet them. She didn’t have to think about it long, because when they noticed her, Winters turned and pulled her into a modest but heartfelt embrace and Buck placed a teasing hand on her helmet, hugging her as well when Winters released her.

“Nora!” Dick had exclaimed, a relieved smile gracing his usually serious expression.

“You boys have no idea how glad I am to see you.” She laughed.

“You’re covered in blood,” Dick observed, “are you wounded?”

“We ran into some trouble, but she handled herself.” Speirs spoke up from behind her. None of the Easy Company officers had noticed his presence in the midst of their reunion. Winters exchanged a respectful nod with the Dog Company officer, and Speirs decided that it was time to hook back up with his own men. 

“Make sure that cut gets taken care of.” He told Eleanor, who nodded. “Got any smokes?” He then asked the men. Buck pulled a pack out of his breast pocket and offered it to Speirs, who took the entire pack and walked off. 

“So who’s still unaccounted for?” Eleanor cut to the chase, as Buck watched Speirs walk off with his smokes in disbelief.

“ _ You. _ ” He replied. “Or, your plane, anyway. Where’s Meehan?” 

Eleanor opened her mouth to explain, but wasn’t sure that she could. Everything so far had moved so quickly that she hadn’t even sorted out what happened in her  _ own  _ mind. She shook her head solemnly and the men’s looks turned mournful.

“I guess that means it’s you, Dick.” Buck said gently after a few moments. At that moment, Toye appeared in the group.

“Nora! You’re a sight for sore eyes!” He exclaimed happily before turning to Winters. “Everyone’s rounded up.” He informed the new CO of Easy Company. Winters nodded, turning to leave and gesturing for the others to follow. Eleanor sidled up next to Buck.

“What’s going on?” She asked, falling into step with the much larger man.

“Taking some guns out nearby. Guys at the beach landings are getting obliterated.” He replied. When they entered the tent, men hooted and hollered as they embraced Eleanor.

“We thought you was dead, bird. What the hell?” Guarnere joked in relief. 

“My God, Nora. You look like you killed a man.” Malarkey joked without thinking as the men took in her blood-soaked uniform. When Eleanor didn’t immediately respond, Malarkey searched her eyes more closely.

“Holy shit.” He said after a moment.

Bull Randleman threw an arm around her shoulders, and Winters urged the men to gather around so that he could talk strategy with them. Eleanor tried to focus on what Winters was saying, but her mind kept wandering at the reminder of the life she had taken just a few hours ago. Bull’s squeezing and softly-rubbing hand on her shoulder periodically pulled her back to the present during the meeting. When the group finally split up to prepare for the assault, Winters pulled Eleanor to the side.

“Go to the medical tent. They need all the help they can get over there.” He ordered her gently.

“No, Roe is already over there. You need a medic.” She insisted.

“We’ll be close by. If anyone is wounded, we’ll get them over to the medical tent. Go.” He told her, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine.” She sighed, turning to leave.

“Nora.” He called out, and she stopped, looking back at him. “I’m glad you did what you needed to do to come back.” 

She nodded softly, forcing a reassuring smile. “You too, Dick.”

 

Eleanor was frustrated that she was kept from the field mission, but she also trusted Dick’s instincts, so she felt torn. All of her frustration, in fact, all of her  _ thoughts  _ of the field mission evaporated when she entered the medical tent and saw all of the wounded men and the medical personnel scrambling to help them. Roe spotted her from across the tent.

“Nice of you to show up, Price.” He called. Though the words were harsh, his tone betrayed how glad he was to see her. “Now grab some gauze and get over here.”

Eleanor took a deep breath and got to work. 

* * *

Eleanor was relieved to finally wash the blood off of her hands when all of the men in the medical tent were taken care of. She sighed as she scrubbed at them; the majority washed away, but the deepest cracks in her skin seemed to hold a red tint no matter how hard she scrubbed. Finally satisfied, she excused herself from the tent and stepped into the roadway. There were soldiers everywhere, but the area was pitch-dark because everyone was on light discipline. She wasn’t exactly sure where she should be settling in for the night, so she figured her first order of business would be to find some of the other men from Easy. After she had been wandering around for a few minutes, Dick jogged up next to her.

“How’re you feeling, Price?” He asked, giving her a sidelong glance. She simply shrugged a shoulder, uninterested in answering the question when there were more important things to discuss.

“Okay.” She said. “How was the assault on Brecourt? I saw that Popeye took a bullet.” She continued.

“Yeah, how’s he doing?” He asked, genuinely interested.

“He’ll be alright.” She replied. “So the assault?”

“Went well. We took out probably 20 Germans. Disabled all of the guns. Dog Company swooped in and took out the last one, but we could’ve handled it.”

“Of course.” She insisted with a knowing smile.

“Anyway, we found a map that’s probably going to prove pretty helpful for headquarters.”

“Day one and you’re already a hero.” She teased. His cheeks took on a pink tinge -- his report of the assault had been so objective, so humble. She enjoyed making Dick Winters uncomfortable with verbal accolades. Up ahead of them, the tent flap of a jeep flipped open, and Guarnere’s face popped out. 

“Gimme some air! Jesus Christ.” He complained. Dick and Eleanor exchanged a glance before walking up to the vehicle and ducking under the flap. 

“Nora!” A few of the men exclaimed. Eleanor’s nose crinkled at the scent that wafted up from Buck’s bowl.

“Whatcha got there?” She asked, cringing. 

“You don’t wanna know.” Guarnere joked, earning an eye roll from Malarkey, who seemed to be preparing the food. “Drink, sir?” He then asked Winters, offering him a bottle.

“It’s been a day of firsts.” Winters reflected, surprising everyone by accepting the bottle and taking a swig.

“Yes, it has.” Eleanor agreed morosely, causing Winters to offer her the bottle next. She took an extra long pull of the alcohol, before handing it back to Guarnere and reaching a hand out to Buck. He took her hand, pulling her up into the back of the truck with them, and on his other side, Toye scooted over to make room for her. 

“Oh, and Guarnere?” Winters added before he left. “I’m not a quaker.” 

Everyone in the truck erupted with laughter and when it died down, there was an unspoken tension, as all the men wanted to ask Eleanor what had happened to her plane,  _ to her _ , but didn’t know how. Harry Welsh finally bit the bullet.

“You do D-Day by yourself?” He asked. Eleanor didn’t mind so much that they wanted to know -- they were her brothers, her comrades. They had all gone through D-Day, too. If she couldn’t tell them, then who could she tell?

“Nah.” She responded, testing a small bit of the beans that Malarkey had handed her in a tin cup. They didn’t taste as bad as they smelled. “I mean, just from the time I left the plane to the time I hit the ground. Lt. Speirs saw me falling.” 

“You spent the evening with _ that guy _ ?” Toye responded. “I mean, the man’s crazy, but if there’s anyone you’d want to be stuck with on invasion day, it’s him. He took out that last gun today practically by himself.” He added. Eleanor found that it wasn’t a huge stretch of her imagination to picture it.

“Falling?” Malarkey asked, suspicious of the word she’d used to describe her descent to earth. Eleanor nodded proudly, actually excited that she had a story the men really wanted to hear.

“Chute went out. I’d be dead if I hadn’t fallen into the water.” She insisted, causing some

of the men’s jaws to drop. 

“You’re pulling my leg.” Malarkey argued.

“No, I’m not! Speirs was waiting at the edge of the lake when I climbed out and then we 

made our way to the rendezvous point. Got attacked by a pair of Germans on the way, but other than that, we didn’t see any trouble.” She summarized. At the mention of the ‘pair of Germans,’ the men sensed that she didn’t want to be questioned too much on the matter.

“Well I’m glad Speirs was there.” Lipton told her with his kind smile. 

“Speirs should be glad  _ she  _ was there.” Buck retorted. “Isn’t that right, Nora?” He added, nudging her playfully.

“Well, he  _ did  _ almost get us lost.” She agreed, causing the men to laugh in surprise. Eleanor found herself becoming increasingly more relaxed as she watched the men around her laughing and carrying on. D-Day, the day they’d all been waiting for, both anticipating and dreading, was finally over. And with the light of the fire and the warmth radiating from Buck and Toye on either side of her, Eleanor felt she was ready, or as ready as she could be, for D-Day plus one.


	7. Chapter 7

“Alright! First Platoon! Get into formation. Second and third, fall in.” Welsh exclaimed the next day as the soldiers of Easy Company gathered around. “No playing grab-fanny with the man in front of you. That means you, Luz.” 

 “Where we going?” One of the men asked.

“We’re taking Carentan. General Taylor’s got the whole division on this. Hoobler will take point. First platoon, lead the way.” He commanded. At the mention of General Taylor, Luz smirked and launched into one of his famous impressions.

“Now remember, boys: flies spread disease...so keep yours closed!” He imitated, earning laughs from those around him. He beamed with pride as Eleanor threw her head back and laughed especially hard. Being away from Easy had clearly been most of Eleanor’s problem yesterday. Now that she was back among friends, she felt almost a hundred percent better.

After Easy had walked straight through the night and gotten separated from the other companies about half a dozen times, the sun appeared on the horizon and the buildings of Carentan cast their morning shadows in the distance. While Eleanor was relieved that the walking was finally over, a bundle of nerves danced in her stomach at the thought that she was about to enter her first real battle. As they neared the town, everyone kept low and Welsh began murmuring orders down the pipeline. 

“Price.” The men called quietly, gesturing toward the front of the line, where Welsh had apparently indicated that he wanted to see her. Staying low, she made her way to the front of the group, Luz following behind her.

“What’s up?” She asked when she arrived, sizing up the town. The first building beyond the gates had a large blue sign that read ‘Cafe de Normandie.’ 

“I want you to _stay close_ to me. Got it?” Welsh told her seriously. 

“Yes sir.” She replied, her heart pounding hard at the thought of being at the front of the action. 

“Luz, you stay on her, too.” He commanded.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice, sir.” Luz replied, and although it was clearly meant to be a joke, his tone came out as serious as the grave.

“Alright, here we go.” Harry whispered. Though it was only seconds, it felt like ages before he finally yelled out “Move! Move!” 

Adrenaline carried Eleanor’s feet forward and she ran next to Welsh, with Luz flanking her other side. It only took moments for the Germans to catch on to their presence and before Eleanor even had the chance to flinch, she heard bullets whizzing past her.

“Keep moving!” Harry shouted over the noise, and Eleanor obeyed, keeping her head down. When they reached the gates of the town, they ducked behind the wall for shelter. Luz attempted to send a couple of shots around the corner, but bullets  were raining down on them. 

“Where the fuck is everybody?!” Harry was shouting, “Where did everybody go?!”

“I have no idea!” Luz screamed back sarcastically, clearly frazzled as well.

“Nobody followed us!” Eleanor shouted, looking back at the men huddled in ditches on the sides of the road.

“No kidding!” Luz replied in exasperation. Eleanor’s system was already in fight or flight mode, and she was angered by the realization that she actually couldn’t do either. She itched to start pulling the trigger on her rifle and feel some semblance of protection, but she wasn’t a combatant. She was only supposed to shoot in direct defense of herself or a wounded soldier. It was in this moment that she truly understood that being a combat medic was no joke. She was expected to run through this chaos without using her weapon.

“Okay, here they come!” Harry called when Winters finally managed to get everyone moving again. “Let’s go!”

Eleanor ducked down low again, running into Carentan behind Welsh and Luz.

* * *

 

Eleanor understood why she was at the front of the assault. There was more chance of getting to cover before the shooting started. However, she soon realized that the front was not an ideal place for a medic. All of the men who were falling to the ground as they pushed further into the city were behind her. Once the entire company managed to breach the city, Eleanor broke away from Luz, attending to any of the wounded that she could find. Luz attempted to stay nearby, but without a medic badge, he couldn’t just step into the middle of the street like her without getting dropped on the spot.

Eleanor found that once a wounded soldier was in sight, leaving cover wasn’t so scary -- just as long as she had that hurting soldier to focus on. It was a law that she’d seen in play many times before she joined the army -- someone else’s panic could force your own to take the backseat. Somebody had to be calm, and as a medic, she’d been designated as that someone.

She peeked around the corner of the building she had just ducked behind and glanced around to try and spot any shooters. In the distance, someone was calling for a medic and Eleanor was making her way in that direction. She took a deep breath before forcing herself around the corner and taking off at a full sprint across the intersection of two streets. She ran straight past Lipton, who was calling out orders, but Eleanor tuned him out as she came to another building across the street and rushed around the corner to take cover.

She was listening hard for the next “medic” call to decide which way to go next, but all that rang around her now were gunshots and Lipton’s frantic shouts. Either another medic had reached the wounded soldier, or he was gone. Eleanor hoped it was the former. When she risked another glance out in the open, she cringed as she saw Lipton still standing in the open, waving his arms as a mortar exploded right in front of him.

“Lip!” She screamed as the percussion sent him flying backwards into the nearest building. Without a second thought, she left her cover and rushed to his aid where Floyd Talbert already had him propped up against the wall. Eleanor skidded to a stop, kneeling in front of him.

“Hey, Lip.” She told him with a calm smile. His eyes flicked to hers, but he was clearly in shock. “We’re gonna get you fixed up here.” She and Talbert watched as his eyes flicked down and glanced at his bloodied crotch. They exchanged a concerned look, and Eleanor reached down, sticking her fingers in the rip and pulling it open further. She leaned down to be at eye-level with it and took a quick look before exhaling in relief.

“You’re okay, Lip! Everything’s right where it should be.” She announced, getting a relieved laugh from Talbert and a barely discernible nod from Lipton. Another man about fifty yards off called for a medic, and Eleanor glanced over her shoulder. “It took a chunk out of your thigh, but it didn’t hit anything serious; it’s just a flesh wound.” She told both men hurriedly. “Tab, get him out of here.” She ordered, and Talbert nodded quickly.

“Sure thing.” He replied, already helping Lipton up. “And Nora, _be careful_.” He added.

“You too.” Eleanor responded with a nod before running off to see to the other soldier.

The moment she slid up next to this soldier, she knew that he wouldn’t make it. She placed her hands on his chest to put pressure on his gaping wounds as his pale lips began speaking to her, his eyes wide.

“It’s okay, Private.” She told him gently. “Try and stay calm.” 

“My m-my mom told me not to join s-so-to join so young.” He sputtered.

“Yeah?” Eleanor replied, trying to keep his attention as chaos continued to ensue around them. “How old are you?”

“Seve-seventeen.” He said, causing Eleanor to frown. He must’ve joined the army as young as fifteen. It wasn’t uncommon for boys to forge their papers and pass for eighteen. She wished she wouldn’t have asked -- she could’ve done without knowing how young he was.

“Only seventeen? You’re far braver than I am.” She told the young man, doing her best to give him a dazzling smile. He smiled back for a moment, clearly proud, before his smile faded, and his eyes moved to look past her in a daze.

“Private Thompson?” She said, reading the name tape on his uniform.

“I don’t...wanna die.” He said gently, before the light left his eyes ,and his breathing sputtered to a stop.

“I know.” Eleanor whispered to herself. “I know.”

It was a miracle she hadn’t been hit, for as long as she’d been sitting out in the open. Although the Germans tended to refrain from shooting at her due to her medic badge, she was never safe from stray bullets, grenades, and mortar shots. Despite knowing all of this, Eleanor couldn’t bring herself to care as she stared at the body beneath her hands.

* * *

 

“The hell is she doing?” Luz shouted over artillery fire to the man next to him. “Nora, move on! You gotta keep moving!” He shouted at her. When she didn’t move, he stepped out of cover but quickly jumped back as a sniper bullet flew past his head. “Dammit.” He muttered.

Eleanor knew that she needed to keep moving and that others would need a medic, so she slowly stood. The sound of artillery around her still sounded muffled and her gaze was still fixated on the stilled face of the boy on the ground.

“Jesus Christ, what is she doing?” Luz exclaimed, watching her stand there. He silently prayed that Shifty had sights on the sniper that had he and his group pinned down. His heart dropped into his stomach as he heard another whistle and watched a mortar round soar past, headed straight for Easy’s lady medic. 

“No!” He screamed, watching in horror. Moments before the mortar landed, the figure of another paratrooper sprinted across the road and grabbed her, hauling her behind a corner with him. Luz gasped in relief.

“Ah, I could puke. That bird’s gonna be the death of me.” He groaned, and the two men next to him muttered their agreement.

* * *

 

Eleanor’s world was still moving at half-speed when an arm hooked around her waist and pulled her (or rather, carried her) around the corner of a building that stood nearby. The moment they were concealed, the corner was blasted to pieces. Eleanor turned her face away from the explosion as her rescuer pushed her back against the wall and pressed his body flush against hers, trying to shield her from the flying rubble.

The explosion snapped Eleanor back to reality, and she turned her face to see that Ronald Speirs had been the one to snatch her up. She faltered for a moment, having expected to see George Luz, or Donald Malarkey, or Bull Randleman, or _anyone_ else, really.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” She whispered. He wasn’t looking at her, his gaze stuck on the corner next to them that had a sizable chunk taken out of it. When he showed no intention of releasing her, Eleanor became worried that he was wounded. An image of shrapnel sticking out of his back flooded her mind and, without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him and ran her hands gently up and down his back, feeling for blood.

When she found none, she was struck by the intimacy of what she was doing and the position they were in. She dropped her hands and cleared her throat, looking back up at Speirs to find that he was now looking at her, his intense gaze roaming over her face.

“...I’m alright.” She told him after a moment, unsure why exactly she felt the need to assure him. With a curt nod, Speirs stepped back a bit, remaining close but putting a few inches between them.

“Me too.” He replied.

“Good.” Eleanor said awkwardly after a moment. In the distance, she heard another call for a medic as the chaos around them seemed to subside -- it was almost over. When Eleanor heard the cry for a medic, she snapped out of her awkward stupor and pushed past Speirs.

“Thanks again!” She called out over her shoulder as she rushed off to find the source of the cry.

After turning through a few alleys, she spotted Liebgott cradling Tipper in his arms, with a couple of soldiers standing by in shock.

“We’re gonna get you all fixed up, Tipper.” Liebgott was telling him softly. 

“Hey, Tip.” Eleanor said calmly as she knelt in front of him. “Let me see what we’re working with, here.” She looked first at his bloodied face -- some of his flesh had burned, and he probably had at least one burst ear drum. The wound on his leg was big, but the capillaries had already been seared shut by the heat of the explosion, so he wasn’t losing too much blood. There was also a steaming piece of shrapnel sticking out of his foot. The main priority for him would be treating the burns so that he didn’t get an infection.

“This isn’t bad at all, Tip.” She assured him, and the men around her seemed to deflate in relief, too. “You’re going to be just fine. We need to get these wounds clean before we wrap them up.” She explained, gesturing to the men standing up. “Come on, guys, let’s get him up and to an aid station.”

The two men reached down and lifted him out of Liebgott’s arms before rushing him off to the aid station. Eleanor sighed before standing up. She glanced around to see that the assault was over. They’d successfully taken Carentan. She reached a hand down to help Liebgott up and he accepted it, hauling himself to his feet.

“Is he really gonna be okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, he’ll be just fine. He’ll probably be going _home._ Which is more than we can say for ourselves.” She told him with a wry smile. “You’d make one hell of a medic, Liebgott.” She told him truthfully, and he rolled his eyes, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“And miss the chance to shoot at these guys? I don’t think so.” He replied jokingly, as the two of them tried to navigate their way toward the town square, where a building was sure to be designated as medical station. 

* * *

 

Eleanor winced as she stepped out of the aid station and back into the daylight. She’d been all but shoved out by Roe and the other medics as she’d neglected to take a break multiple times since they arrived in Carentan. Thankfully, the aid station wasn’t too flooded with casualties. She wandered over to the statue in the middle of the town square, where she saw a number of men from Easy Company relaxing and chattering happily. 

“Whaddya hear, Whaddya say, fellas?” She greeted as she reached the group. The men all exclaimed their own greetings, and she plopped down on the ground next to Malarkey, leaning into his side and closing her eyes.

“They finally kick you out of the aid station?” Skip asked with a smirk.

“Ah, shut up.” She muttered in response, though her lips turned up in smile. The men continued talking around her, and Eleanor let her mind drift as she readjusted her head on Malarkey’s shoulder.

“Hey, you alright?” Malarkey whispered. Eleanor opened one eye to find him staring down at her, concerned. “Heard you froze up earlier.” He added gently. Eleanor groaned before pulling her head upright. She assumed he’d heard it from Luz’s big mouth -- he’d already given her an earful about it.

 “It was nothing. I’m fine. I promise.” She assured him. He didn’t look convinced, but nodded anyway. They turned back to the others just in time to hear one of them insist that they’d be back in Berlin by Christmas. The other men scoffed and got into it about the likelihood of the Germans surrendering.

“Enjoy it while it lasts. We’ll be moving out soon.” A new voice cut into the conversation seriously.

Eleanor had to shield her eyes from the sun in order to see the standing figure, and she sat up straighter when she discovered it was Lt. Speirs. He held her eyes for a moment as More asked “out of town, Lieutenant? Already?”

“That’s right.” Speirs replied, turning to look down at him. He stood silently for a few more moments before moving to walk away.  

“Don’t they know we’re just getting settled here?” More added, causing Speirs to stop in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder and fixed Moore with an intense stare, saying nothing. The tension among the group could be cut with a knife.

“Lieutenant Price, a word?” He finally spoke, not breaking eye contact with More.

Eleanor nodded, ignoring the astounded looks the men were giving her as she got to her feet. Speirs walked off without looking back and Eleanor followed after him, sending a shrug and raised eyebrows back at the men as way of explanation.

Speirs stopped about fifty meters off before turning to face her. Rather than speak, he simply stared at her, and Eleanor, feeling the heavy pressure of his gaze, broke the silence.

“Is something wrong?” She asked.

“Cigarette?” He asked, pulling a pack out of his pocket and holding it out to her. Eleanor shook her head. 

“No, thank you. I don’t smoke.” She replied, eyeing him curiously. He gave a slight nod and pulled one out of the pack with his teeth, lighting it. Eleanor stood awkwardly, waiting for him to finish.

“Mind explaining to me what happened earlier, Lieutenant?” He asked around his cigarette, those eyes once again boring into hers. 

“Earlier…?” Eleanor began innocently with raised eyebrows.

“When you almost got blown to pieces.” He elaborated.

“Oh.” Eleanor replied softly. She wasn’t about to pour her heart out about watching a boy die to Ronald Speirs. “I had been pretty close to a blast right before that. I think I was just a bit disoriented.” She lied. Speirs’ steely eyes seemed to see straight through her. “It won’t happen again.” She assured him.

“Make sure it doesn’t.” He said simply before turning and walking off.


	8. Chapter 8

Almost immediately after the division was moving again, they were attacked. As much as he hated it, Frank Perconte was quick to gloat that the assault had proved his point -- Easy Company was always at the front of an advance and always the first to get shot at. Everyone managed to take cover and crawl into the nearest hedgerow, where they were then instructed to dig foxholes for the night. Eleanor went around and bandaged up a couple of men who had been grazed by bullets in the assault, leaving her foxhole buddy for the night, Guarnere, to dig the hole.

After ensuring that everyone was taken care of, she then sought out Roe’s foxhole so that she could compare supplies with him and see if he had anything to supplement her own scarce collection. Night had fallen and the men were on noise and light discipline, giving the woods a quiet and eerie quality. Eleanor was trying to relax, but the silence was unnerving and she kept expecting a mortar round or machine gun fire to take them by surprise any minute. It was this tension that caused Eleanor to nearly jump out of her skin when a shout broke through the darkness.

“Medic!” Someone was calling from a foxhole on the far edge of Easy territory. Roe and Eleanor exchanged a quick glance before shoving their supplies back into their bags and scrambling out of the hole toward the frantic yelling. When they finally navigated their way to the chaos, they saw Floyd Talbert leaned up against a tree in a German poncho with a couple of the men attempting to attend to him. A private was also standing in his foxhole, sputtering and clearly beside himself with panic.

“What happened?” Eleanor barked as Roe fell to his knees in front of Talbert and started looking for the wound. She kneeled on Tab’s other side, shooing the others out of the way and opening her medical kit, ready to pull out whatever was needed.

“He....he looked like a Kraut!” The nervous private in the foxhole insisted. 

“Bayonette.” Roe added quietly, lifting up the poncho so that Eleanor could get a good look at the wound.

“How deep?” She murmured, pulling out plenty of gauze to pack it with.

“Not very.” Roe replied, prodding at the wound. “Seems like it missed everything important.” 

Talbert hissed and whimpered as Roe continued to put pressure on the wound, and Eleanor ran a comforting hand down the side of his face.

“You hear that, Floyd? You’re going to be just fine. Look at me, Floyd.” She said gently. “We’re going to get you all fixed up.” Talbert nodded.

“I got the wound packed up. Should hold for now.” Roe announced a few minutes later. “I say we truck him out of here and to an aid hospital. Someone should really take a look at it before we stitch it up. What do you think?” He asked, looking to her for confirmation. Eleanor nodded.

“Sounds good. Better safe than sorry.” She agreed. “Okay, Floyd, we’re gonna get you to the hospital, okay? You get a break from this shit.” She told him jokingly. Eleanor never cursed in front of the men, and it seemed to do the trick of lowering the tension for now. Minutes later, Talbert was being lifted onto the back of a truck, and Roe gestured for Eleanor to climb up after him.

“No, you go.” She insisted. “You’re more familiar with the wound. I’ll keep an eye on things here.” She told him. Roe chose not to argue and climbed up next to Talbert, taking a seat. The one thing Eleanor loved the most about Eugene Roe was that he seemed to be the only man in Easy who took her 100% seriously -- who wasn’t afraid to give her responsibility. 

“Okay, Floyd, I’ll see you when you get back.” She told the young man, patting him affectionately on the cheek before signalling for the driver to go. 

* * *

 

Eleanor crossed her arms over her chest as she trod softly through the dark woods. The night air had become chilly, and now that the adrenaline of Talbert’s accident had worn off, she was beginning to feel it again.

She froze in place as a figure appeared before her in the darkness. It was too dark to see the man’s face, but she was able to make out the American uniform, causing her to relax slightly.

“What are you doing out here?” the man asked in a demanding and familiar voice.

“Lieutenant Speirs.” She breathed in relief. It was strange that she would be so at ease with him; no one else was. But it wasn’t strange to trust someone simply because you went through D-Day with them -- he was the only person in the world who knew what the invasion of Normandy had been like for her, and that was a strong bond. 

“I was just heading back to my foxhole.” She told him, shifting uncomfortably in the silence that met her explanation. She had been crossing an open expanse between platoons and nobody was around to break the ice – as she was sure one of her Easy Company comrades would have tried to do.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around.” He spoke after a moment, his voice keeping the same cold timbre as always. 

“I’m not wandering.” She explained calmly, gesturing behind her in the direction she’d come from. “There was a call for a medic. Tab got stuck by a bayonet.”

Speirs seemed to contemplate this, nodding. “How is he?”

“He’ll be alright. Roe and the men are getting him onto a jeep right now so he can get to a hospital.” She replied, uncomfortable with the way his eyes were boring into her, contemplative and calculating, as she spoke.

“Let’s get you back to your foxhole.” He suggested, gesturing for her to follow him. She opened her mouth to insist that she could make it on her own, but he’d already turned his back on her and headed toward her platoon. She hurried after him.

“What were  _ you _ doing up?” She whispered as she caught up to him. 

“Making sure everyone else is doing what they’re supposed to be.” He replied simply. Eleanor doubted it was really his job to be patrolling in Easy Company territory when he had his own company to look after, but chose not to ask. He probably heard Tab’s screaming and came to check it out.

“My foxhole’s right up here.” She announced, gesturing to the hole where Guarnere was already fast asleep. He was sitting with his arms crossed and his chin tucked into his chest, a scowl peeking out from under the rim of his helmet. A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth at the sight, and she turned to face Speirs, stopping. She cleared her throat as he watched her, unsure how to dismiss him.

“Thanks for...you know, walking me back.” She told him quietly.

“They have you sharing foxholes with the men?” He asked after a moment, glancing at Guarnere’s sleeping form with a stony expression. Eleanor wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but that wasn’t it.

“Yes, well...It’d be more dangerous not to.” She explained with a shrug. In fact, she’d been touched when the resident “tough guy,” Wild Bill, had insisted that he be the one to make sure that nobody “gets any ideas.” She wasn’t as close to him as she was to Luz or Lipton or Malarkey and hadn’t known that he cared so much.

“I suppose.” Speirs replied. “How’s your head?” He continued to question, his eyes flitting up to her forehead.

“Oh,” Eleanor stammered, feeling her neck and face flush. She reached up self-consciously to touch the cut that Roe had, unfortunately, had to stitch up. It would probably leave a scar. “It’s fine. All stitched up now.” She reported with a close-lipped smile.

Speirs gave a small nod and continued to search her eyes with his own. Eleanor was learning that Ronald Speirs was a man of few words, who didn’t feel the need to fill every silence with talk. Normally, Eleanor would appreciate this quality -- the Easy Company boys were full of quips and mindless chatter -- but she was uncomfortable with the silence now, with all of the Easy men lying in foxholes nearby. She didn’t want any of them to think that she was having a moment with the Lieutenant -- because she wasn’t.

Ronald Speirs truthfully wasn’t sure why he had the stifling urge to drag this interaction out. In the back of his mind was the nagging thought that once it ended, he had no way of knowing how long it would be until the next one. It was no wonder that women had been barred from combat all these years. On D-Day, he’d been prepared to unload her on someone else the first chance he got, but by the time he did, it was too late. Some sort of irreparable damage had been done in him and now he was constantly trying to keep track of her -- get his sights on her.

“Well...goodnight, Lieutenant.” Eleanor said, pulling him out of his thoughts. She was stepping down into her foxhole and he resisted the urge to reach out and offer a steadying hand.

“Get some rest, Price.” He replied with a curt nod.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Easy Company was quick to duck further into their foxholes and ready their rifles when an ambush started. Eleanor was already crawling back and forth behind the ridge, responding to cries for a medic.

Only minutes into the altercation, cries for help seemed to be everywhere, but thanks to the concealment of the ditch and surrounding brush, most injuries were no more than flesh wounds. Because of this, Eleanor was able to quickly bounce between soldiers, bandaging them and instructing them to start crawling toward help, if needed.

“Argh, Medic!” A man to her right cried, and Eleanor hurried over to him. The young man, whose name had slipped Eleanor’s mind in the heat of battle, had a bag with a disassembled bazooka lying on the ground next to him and was clutching his bloody hand. Harry Welsh was crouching near him, his reassuring words drowned out by the overwhelming sound of bullets and mortars. 

“Let me see.” Eleanor shouted over the noise, trying to pry his injured hand away. Once she managed to, blood began gushing out, and she quickly blanketed it with some gauze. Two of his fingers had been shot off.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” She asked, and he shook his head frantically, staring at his hand in shock. He’d only just discovered that his fingers were gone.

“We’ve got to get these tanks before they close in.” Harry was insisting, watching German tanks appearing over the hill, quickly approaching. “Can he hold a bazooka?”

His fingers wouldn’t have prevented him from holding the bazooka, but it was clear that he was quickly descending into a state of shock, as he was now unresponsive to Harry’s frustrated cries.

“Snap out of it, Private! That’s an order! Dammit!” Welsh shouted, looking around for someone --  _ anyone _ \-- else. Everything was still in chaos. 

“Price! Go get Blithe!” Welsh ordered her and Eleanor’s gaze whipped over her shoulder. Blithe was the nearest person, and he looked even more traumatized than the wounded Private in front of her. Blithe wasn’t going to run into an open field with a bazooka. Not allowing herself to think about it too long, Eleanor ripped the medic badge off of her arm. She tuned out Harry’s shouts as she pressed the gauze tighter around the Private’s hand. “Keep pressure on this. I’ll be right back!” She ordered him, before picking up the strap of the bag and slinging the heavy object onto her back.

“Eleanor, no! I’ll find someone el--” Harry exclaimed, but Eleanor pulled out of his reach.

“It’s too late!” She replied, referring to the quickly closing-in enemy. Her adrenaline was pumping as she ran out of the ditch into the open battlefield, counting on Harry to follow her. She dropped to her knees as she saw a tank appear at the crest of the hill before her. She yanked the pieces of the bazooka out of the duffle, scrambling to remember how they fit together. Thankfully, her hands were operating on automatic, and she managed to assemble it in just a few seconds. 

“Are you crazy?” Harry gasped behind her as he helped her hoist the heavy weapon onto her shoulder. It occurred to Eleanor for a moment that it was a great stroke of luck for them to still be unharmed after being exposed for so long, but she pushed the thought away, fearing that it would jinx her. She felt Harry loading the gun behind her and swallowed the lump in her throat as the tank grew closer and closer.

“Okay, go! Fire!” Harry shouted over the sound of artillery, but Eleanor shook her head, gritting her teeth as she focused her aim. If she let it venture just a little bit closer, she could hit it dead center. The person driving the tank must have spotted them because the gun turned eerily towards them, like the eye of a provoked cyclops.

“Nora, fire! Fire now!” Harry yelled. Eleanor waited just a few more moments before finally pulling the trigger. She felt the power of the weapon shudder through her as the shell went soaring into her target. A shell that had been fired from the tank a moment before it was hit came soaring in their direction and she felt Harry throw her to the ground as it flew past, obliterating a tree. The pair quickly pulled back up to their knees, and she heard Harry ask “one more?” She nodded, feeling him once again load the bazooka. By the time he’d loaded it and Eleanor had shifted to take aim, the tank was, like the last, dangerously close to them. Eleanor fired the moment she had the sights lined up, and the tank went up in flames. Unlike the first one, this tank did not stop and continued barreling quickly toward them.

“Run, Nora! Fall back, fall back, fall back!” Welsh cried hurriedly, helping her carry the bazooka as they scurried away from the burning tank. Bullets whizzed right past Eleanor’s head, and she dropped the bazooka as they reached the ditch, diving back into safety.

“Are you shot?” Welsh questioned breathlessly, looking her over.

“No.” She gasped in disbelief. “Are you?” He shook his head and then fell back with a groan, still alarmed by the thought of what could’ve happened. He picked up his rifle and snatched up her medic badge, tossing it to her. He nodded toward the Private, who was still sitting there quietly, watching the darkening blood stain on his gauze. Eleanor swallowed and nodded, turning to see to the boy as Harry went back to firing off shots.

* * *

  
  


Eleanor could practically feel the anger rolling off Dick Winters as she approached him in the abandoned city of Carentan. They’d been instructed to come back here and wait for transportation back to England. Eleanor couldn’t wait to get a shower.

She’d considered ducking out of range when Winters spotted her, but knew that this conversation would need to happen eventually, as she’d managed to avoid it up to this point. It wasn’t that she couldn’t take a good reprimand -- it was just that  _ each  _ of the Easy Company men seemed to think it was their responsibility to give her an earful about her actions and she didn’t know if she could take it one more time, especially from Dick Winters. He stepped away from the group of lieutenants he was speaking with (Welsh, Nixon, and Speirs) to meet her, but, to her chagrin, didn’t step nearly far enough to be out of hearing distance.

“Can we skip the lecture if I say I’m sorry and promise never to do it again?” she asked him with a lopsided smile.

“Nora.” He sighed, his tone, as per usual, serious as the grave. He looked at her through his lashes: the somber, disappointed look she’d been hoping to avoid. 

“What was I supposed to do, Dick? McGrath was wounded and Harry needed a hand.” She insisted.

“Don’t drag me into it.” Harry called out from over Dick’s shoulder, alerting her to the fact that the other men were indeed listening in. Her eyes flickered over to glare momentarily at Welsh and caught Speirs’ eyes in the process. His face, as always, was a mask of disinterest. Nixon, true to his nature, was smirking.

“You can’t just pull off your badge, Price.” Winters lectured, pulling Eleanor’s attention back to him. “You’re not a combatant. In fact, you’re here on  _ the one condition _ that you’re not a combatant.” 

“Eleanor swallowed the lump forming in her throat and nodded. She had no doubt that she’d made the right choice -- the  _ only  _ choice -- but that didn’t change the fact that disappointing someone like Winters was hard for her.

“We were outgunned.” She replied quietly as a way of further explaining herself. Winters sighed, eyeing her for a moment before replying.

“You did the right thing, Nora.” He reassured her. “I just wish someone else would’ve done it. The men can’t lose you. And they can’t focus on the fight when you’re putting yourself in the line of fire right in front of them.” He explained gently but firmly. Eleanor nodded again, although she wasn’t completely sure that she understood. Truth be told, she was getting tired of people telling her how she was affecting the men’s focus. And truth be told, she would pull her medic badge off again if another such situation presented itself.

“I’m sorry I scared everyone.” She told him.

“You scared  _ me.” _ He replied bluntly. Eleanor’s lips quirked back into a smile.

“I’m sorry I scared  _ you.”  _ She corrected. “What’s the punishment for medics who try to be heroes, again?” She then asked jokingly. Dick let out a breathy laugh, which was surprisingly expressive for him. 

“Nothing from me. But Sink’s gonna want to have words with you.” He warned her.

“Great. I look forward to it.” She replied with a wry smile. “I should get back to medical.” She insisted, shifting to address the other three men. “Gentlemen.”

“Don’t pull any gutsy stuff like that again, or I might fall in love with you, Price.” Nixon joked, earning a disapproving glance from Winters. Knowing that it was all in jest, Eleanor winked.

“No promises!” She called out, backing away, causing Nixon’s grin to widen.

“Come get one of us when you’re ready to tackle the showers.” Welsh then called out, and Eleanor sent back a thumbs up as she walked away.

* * *

Eleanor exhaled deeply, using the back of her wrist to wipe a bead of sweat off of her forehead. She’d once again lost track of time working with the wounded in the medical tent. Some men down on Roe’s end of the line had sustained pretty serious injuries during that last ambush.

“Nora Price.” A stern voice called out from the direction of the tent entrance, causing her to jump slightly. She whirled around to see Lewis Nixon standing there with a chastising look.

“Shhh!” She scolded quietly, putting a finger to her lips and then jerking it back down, realizing she was still wearing bloody gloves. She ripped them off, stomping over to where Nixon stood. The medical tent was quiet for a change, as all the men had been temporarily taken care of and were either resting or staring at the tent roof silently, awaiting transport away from this place.

“You were supposed to come see one of us about getting a shower. It’s past midnight.” He reminded her quietly.

“I’m sorry; there was a lot to be done here.” She replied truthfully, shrugging a shoulder.

“Well it’s time to take care of yourself. Come on.” He insisted, placing a hand on the small of her back and urging her toward the door.

“I should probably check on Roberts before I --” She began, resisting his push.

_ “Now.” _ Nixon silenced her. “That’s an order, Lieutenant.” He added, placing a hand on each of her shoulders and marching her out of medical.

“You can’t order me around.” She insisted, though she submitted, causing him to release her and instead walk alongside her. They walked in the direction of the newly-erected shower tents in thoughtful silence that Eleanor soon broke.

“So...back to England.” She began wistfully.

“What’s the matter? Need a break already?” Nix teased.

“Hell yes!” She replied with fervor, and Nix’s eyebrows shot skyward.

“Is that any way for a lady to speak, Miss Price?” He chastised jokingly.

“In a warzone? Yes.” She retorted. “And that’s Lieutenant Price, to you.” Her smile fell a bit in surprise, and she slowed to a stop as she spotted Lieutenant Speirs ahead, approaching them. Nix stopped as well, nodding at the fellow officer.

“Speirs.” He acknowledged. 

“Nixon.” Speirs returned before shifting his gaze to Eleanor. “Isn’t it a bit late to be wandering around? Lights out was hours ago.” He wasn’t any higher-ranking than them and didn’t have the power to order them around, but he seemed to be drawing attention to the possible impropriety of the situation. Eleanor found this puzzling and, to be honest, a bit off-putting. And why did he assume that every time she was walking somewhere, she was just ‘wandering around?’ 

“For someone in Dog company, I see you an awful lot.” She retorted, and Nixon attempted to hide the smile that erupted at her fiery spirit. The only indication Speirs gave of having heard her reply was a slight arching of an eyebrow.

“Nora just got out of medical. She needs a shower and has to have a lookout.” Nixon explained briefly.

“Of course.” Speirs agreed, seemingly genuine, before stepping out of their way. “Carry on.”

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.” Eleanor told him before continuing with Nixon. After a few moments, Nixon glanced over his shoulder to make sure Speirs was out of earshot.

“You should be careful around him.” He told her.

“What do you mean?” Eleanor asked. She had no reason to be suspicious of the man.

“You’ve heard the rumors about him, right?” He asked incredulously. Eleanor scoffed.

“You men are worse than a bunch of little old ladies at a bridge game.” She criticized.

“So you don’t care that he killed those soldiers?” Nix asked in mild disbelief.

“No. I don’t  _ believe  _ that he did.” She said simply.

“Alright. Look, all I’m saying is that you don’t know him very well.” He explained.

“I know him better than you do.” She retorted. “And I trust him. With my life. Just like the rest of you. You’re all good men.” 

Nixon just shook his head, a small smile on his face.

“You’re  _ too  _ trusting. Not everyone here can be a good man. Otherwise you wouldn’t need a lookout to go to the showers.” He argued as they arrived at the tents and stopped walking.

“Maybe I don’t” She replied, earning a skeptical look from Nixon. He was right -- even though she wasn’t too worried about being attacked, she liked having a lookout for the sake of being able to relax, knowing that no man was going to walk in on her naked. “But I mean...better safe than sorry.” She added sheepishly, causing him to smirk.

“Right. I’ll see if any are empty.” She crossed her arms over her torso and looked around as she waited. He soon returned and gestured to the second tent.

“One advantage to your insane work ethic -- it’s so late that we don’t have to wait for a shower.” Lewis told her. “This one’s empty. I’ll be out here waiting. Take your time.”

Eleanor smiled at him. “Thanks, Lew.”

* * *

Pretty much the moment Easy Company arrived back in England, Eleanor was summoned to Colonel Sink’s Aldbourne office. She expected to get a tongue-lashing, but she was not prepared for the look Colonel Sink was giving her when she entered the office. Keeping her head held high, she approached his desk and stood at attention.

“Look at me, Price.” He ordered. Eleanor complied. “I’m gonna give you exactly one minute to explain yourself before I tell you what  _ I’ve _ been thinking for the past few days.” He told her gruffly. Eleanor swallowed before responding.

“We started getting hit harder and the tanks were closing in. It seemed like no matter how many bullets we were firing, they just kept coming. Lieutenant Welsh wanted McGrath to help him fire the bazooka, but he got wounded. It was a good strategy, Colonel. I knew it was the best way to turn the battle around. And there was no one else around. It had to be done, and I did it.” She finished, surprised by the steadiness and confidence in her own voice.

Colonel Sink regarded her in silence for a few moments.

“And what about the boys screaming medic?” He asked, heated. Eleanor averted her eyes. “Did you expect a soldier to pick up your medic badge and do  _ your  _ job? Because that  _ is  _ your job, if I’m not mistaken.

“Yes sir.”

“Everyone has their duties, and yours is to protect and heal. A real medic’s only concern would be the health of his soldiers.” 

“That  _ was _ my concern, sir.” She interrupted inadvertently. “I just chose more...preventative methods.” She then added sheepishly, realizing that she’d interrupted him. 

“I should be sending you home.” He told her. “War has rules, Lieutenant. According to the Geneva Convention, the minute you take that badge off, you’re fair game. It could even be construed as a war crime if you wear that badge around until it’s convenient and then whip it off to become a combatant. Hell, if General MacArthur knew that I let you stay, he’d be seeing red for days. This wasn’t the agreement, Price.” He reminded her sternly.

“I understand, sir.”

Sink sighed, suddenly looking much older. “Lucky for you, there are others I blame  _ more  _ for this incident.”

“Sir?” She replied, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Dog company retreated against orders.” He told Eleanor, causing her jaw to drop slightly. Dick had alluded to the fact that something had gone amiss in the battle strategy, but she hadn’t known this. She wanted to insist that her actions were her responsibility alone, but she didn’t think it’d make any difference -- if they’d retreated from the battle without permission, they were going to be in big trouble no matter what. An image of Ronald Speirs popped into her head uninvited and she tried to push it out. Surely he hadn’t run? She couldn’t imagine it.

“How will they be punished?” She asked and Sink gave her a look that told her she was out of line. 

“If I were you, I’d be more worried about your own punishment. Mess duty until we leave Aldbourne again. Dawson can get you a schedule on your way out.” He said, effectively dismissing her. 

“Of course. Thank you, sir.” She replied graciously, heading for the door.

“Oh, and Lieutenant?” He called, stopping her in her tracks. “If I hear of you pulling that badge off of your arm in battle again, you’ll be home buying war bonds at the five-and-dime store. You understand?” 

“Yes sir.” 

Eleanor sighed as she closed the office door behind her. It’s true, shirking your duty as a medic is questionable. But if a man had done it -- if Eugene Roe had done it -- he would’ve been lauded as a hero for going above and beyond his duty.

After retrieving her mess duty schedule from Private Dawson, she sauntered out of the building, surprised to find a small crowd gathered there by the door. Nixon, Welsh, Winters, Guarnere, Randleman, Liebgott, Malarkey, Muck, Luz, and Lipton were all staring at her expectantly.

“Well?” Muck asked. “You out or what?” Malarkey elbowed him but a sweet smile graced Eleanor’s face at his question.

“No, Skip. I’m not out.” She replied, and the men cheered at the news, pulling her into the group for embraces. Guarnere pulled the paper out of her hands and made a sound of distaste upon seeing her punishment.

“Winters put in for medals for the both of us.” Welsh told her, and she gave an astonished look to Winters, who looked almost sheepish.

“I don’t think mine will make it to the top. Sounds like Sink doesn’t want General MacArthur to know.” She explained, causing the men to fall silent.

“Well,  _ we  _ know, Bird.” Guarnere assured her after a moment, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll spread the word -- Eleanor Price ain’t afraid-a nothin’!” He exclaimed, causing a melodic laugh to rise out of her. The group headed for the mess hall as Luz cracked more jokes, and Eleanor felt lighter, knowing that she would’ve been missed.  


	9. Chapter 9

The English tavern Eleanor found herself in was so crowded it was difficult to move around without getting in someone’s way. In the time since she and her comrades had returned to England, she had been doing her best to get rest. She, of course, spent quite a bit of time doing mess hall duty, as this had been her punishment for manning the bazooka in Carentan. It wasn’t so bad -- she’d been able to spend some time with men she hadn’t really gotten a chance to catch up with since D-Day, as the men were on a rotating schedule to help out with mess duties. Between doing her mess duties and the lingering exhaustion from being out on the front, she’d found herself sleeping whenever she got the chance, trying to regain her strength for whatever was ahead. Surely they wouldn’t be in England long. 

Considering that, she had agreed to go out to the tavern and socialize on this one night to make up for her reclusiveness and maybe make a few good memories before they shipped out again. The men were all in uniform; once again, Eleanor had decided to give her uniform a break and wear civilian clothes, but she didn’t go all out like she had the last time she’d gone out: she’d put on a simple cotton navy blue dress she’d found in the house of the couple she was quartered with. She had put on a little bit of lipstick before heading out the door and left her hair down in its natural loose curls instead of attempting to re-curl and coif it just right.

She was enjoying herself immensely, leaning against a pillar near the center of the small room, watching Buck and Luz hustle some of the others at darts. She attempted to suppress a smile as she took a sip from the mug in her hands. The tavern was packed because the first set of replacements had arrived. From what she’d seen, they all seemed like nice boys -- still, it was difficult to feel welcoming to people whose presence reminded her of old friends lost. Many of the men messed with the new additions to some extent, but for the most part, they were understanding.

“Enjoying yourself?” Lipton asked as he appeared next to her. Eleanor smiled brightly. 

“I am.” She replied. “Luz is excited to have some fresh meat for his schemes.” 

Lipton chuckled, clearly wanting to say more as he glanced at her sidelong. She took another sip of her drink. 

“How’s mess duty been?” He asked finally.

“Tolerable.” She replied, shrugging a shoulder. “What about you? Enjoying your time away from the front?” 

“Yeah, it’s nice to be back to warm food and showers,” He told her with a nod. “Have you...talked to anybody yet? You know, about D-day?” He then asked hesitantly. Eleanor’s smile grew tight-lipped at the topic change, but she couldn’t be angry with Lipton, who only ever cared about the men’s (and her own) well-being.

“Winters.” She said, nodding toward the redhead who was sitting, as always, with Nixon. 

He’d likely been dragged to the bar by his friend. “He had to write a report. To account for Meehan and...the rest of the soldiers on the plane.” She explained quietly, gazing down into the drink in her hands. It had been a difficult conversation, but not as difficult as it could have been, considering Dick Winters’ compassion and the quiet strength he exuded that made others trust him. Lipton was eyeing her with concern and understanding; she could tell that he wanted to know more but was restraining himself.

“Good.” He replied. “As long as you talked to someone. Can’t keep that stuff bottled up, you know? Anyway, I’m here if you ever need me.”

Eleanor smiled sweetly and placed a hand on his arm in a friendly gesture. “I know, Lip. Thank you.”

He patted her elbow and gave her another reassuring smile before turning to one of the men who had been trying to get his attention. Eleanor’s eyes fixed on a spot on the far wall as she continued to take swigs of her drink. They glazed over a bit as her mind went to a different place, seeing the look on Meehan’s face as he shoved her out of the plane.

She wondered for the hundredth time since coming back to England if she should write his family. It seemed only right to let them know of the heroic circumstances of his death, but she didn’t know how her being a woman played into all of that. Would his wife get the wrong idea if she wrote to her? Was it inappropriate, regardless of circumstances, to write a woman about her husband? She made a mental note to ask Winters for his take on it and looked down at her now empty mug with a sigh. She would need more to drink. 

“Who wants to buy me another drink?” She called out to no one in particular. 

“I’ve got you, Nora.” Liebgott insisted over the offers of a few others. He took the mug from her.

“Another one of these?” He asked. 

“Something stronger.” She replied. Something about the determination in her tone made Liebgott hesitate, but he finally nodded.

“Sure thing, Bird.”

* * *

 

Liebgott had come back with some kind of rum, which was clearly the middle ground he took in bringing her ‘something stronger’, but Eleanor accepted it gratefully and without complaint. By the time she made another trip around the room and came around to Nixon and Winters’ table, she’d finished that drink and began sipping at a glass of whiskey that Cobb had offered her. She was definitely feeling it at this point, and she knew because she was enjoying herself again, the thought of what she’d experienced on D-Day miles from her recollection. 

“Hello, gentlemen.” She greeted, beaming as she plopped down into a chair at their table. Winters gave a polite nod, and a smirk grew on Nixon’s face. 

“Good evening, Nora.” He replied. “Good to see you out. Having fun?” 

“Yes, I’m having a blast.” She replied, her voice a few decibels louder than it needed to be. Nixon tried not to laugh.

“And how many drinks have you had?” He asked with a knowing look.

“Just a few.” She replied, snickering for no real reason. Winters and Nixon exchanged a look. They’d been observing her earlier, making note of the fact that she’d been coaxing single drinks out of each of the men separately, moving about the room so that nobody was monitoring her intake. People were only now starting to notice that she had been overserved. 

“Why don’t you sit here and talk to us for a while?” Winters suggested. Someone needed to be accountable for her, and he was as good a person as any for the job. Eleanor’s face lit up at the suggestion, and she placed her whiskey down on the table in front of her, sitting up straighter. 

“Of course!” She exclaimed. “What are we talking about?” Her voice was still a little bit louder than necessary, and even Dick found it hard to keep himself from laughing at the girl. 

“Well, we  _ were  _ talking about plans for moving out again. But that’s above your clearance level.” Nixon admitted.

“Good.” She replied. “I don’t want to know anyway.” 

“Let’s talk about home instead.” Nixon suggested, a mischievous look in his eye. 

“And that’s better?” Winters asked, raising an eyebrow. Satisfied to just be sitting among friends with the quickly dwindling drink in her hand, Eleanor nodded eagerly.

“Now, I know you insist that you don’t have a beau back home,” Nixon began, “But surely there’s some man waiting around for you somewhere.” 

Eleanor let out a laugh so abrupt that she had to throw her head back to accommodate it.

“Yes, because sitting around waiting for his sweetheart to come back from war is every man’s dream.” She joked back.

“Well, I imagined he’d be fighting, too.” Nixon added. Eleanor shook her head, still smiling, though there was a playfully chastising look in her eye.

“No, there’s no one.” She told him firmly. “How is  _ your  _ sweetheart doing?” She then changed the subject.

“If I told you about that, I’d only depress you.” He replied with a sigh. He then turned to Winters with a cheeky look.

“And what about you, Dick?” He asked. Winters raised his eyebrows as if he’d forgotten the original question. “Got any ladies waiting back home?” 

“You know I don’t.” He said simply, giving Nixon an unimpressed look. Before Nixon could speak up in defense of himself, Eleanor cut in.

“Really?” She asked, her eyebrows sky high. “I find that hard to believe.” 

Winters chose not to reply, scratching the back of his neck as he avoided eye contact, and Nixon chuckled gleefully at his discomfort. The smile on his face faded as his eyes flitted to someone standing behind Eleanor. She was taking the last swig of her whiskey as the person stepped around her and settled into the chair next to her. Without even glancing at the man, she slid her empty glass over to him.

“Be a doll and fill me up again?” She asked with a laugh. When she sensed the air around the table changing, she glanced over to see that the person she’d demanded a refill from was none other than Ronald Speirs.

“It sounds like you’ve had enough.” He said simply. Something inside Eleanor immediately bristled at that, not liking the idea of him telling her what to do. “Winters. Nixon.” He greeted, earning nods from the other men. “What time are we being briefed in the morning?”  

The Lieutenants would be briefed about their next mission ahead of time so that they could pass on instructions to the rest of the soldiers. This meant that they really were moving out soon. 

“0600.” Winters replied. Speirs nodded, contemplating the information. Eleanor’s happy drunk mood was quickly souring into an angry drunk mood. They’d been having such a good time before he interfered and sucked all of the enjoyment out of the air with his serious demeanor. 

“I’m going to get another drink,” she announced as a way of excusing herself from the table. She reached for the glass she’d placed in front of Speirs, but he slid it out of her reach at the last moment. She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at him. He didn’t seemed fazed. Eleanor was frustrated -- they wouldn’t act this way if she were a male lieutenant. Deciding that she didn’t need the glass anyway, she stood and walked off from the table without so much as a goodbye to any of them.

When she reached the bar, she ordered a shot, not wanting to ingest much more liquid -- she was already feeling pretty bloated from the amount she’d had. 

“How’s it going?” She heard Malarkey ask over her shoulder. She turned to glare at him.

“If you’re going to tell me that I’ve had enough, you can just turn around and go back the way you came.” She insisted brusquely. Malarkey’s eyebrows shot up, and he suppressed a smile. 

“I’m not.” He insisted, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just checking in.” 

“Oh.” Eleanor replied, relaxing a bit. “Sorry, I’m a bit…” She began, shaking her head and then leaning back against the bar for stability.

“I know.” Malarkey said simply with a little smirk. “Mickey, she’s done for tonight.” He called over her shoulder to the bartender, placing a supportive arm around her shoulders.

“Hey,” She protested, although there wasn’t much fight to it. She didn’t care much that Malarkey was cutting her off now. She hadn’t really wanted to drink more, it had just become a matter of pride when Speirs had tried to prevent her from it. She allowed Malarkey to lead her over to the center of the room where everyone was gathering to listen to Lipton’s announcement. 

“Well...I hate to break the news here, boys, but we’re moving out again.” He said solemnly, causing the entire room to go silent. The men all exchanged looks, and Eleanor looked to Malarkey, whose hand squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, and to Skip, who raised his mug and took a sip from it. Now she was sure she didn’t want anything to drink. She’d have to be up tomorrow morning learning battle plans and memorizing land layouts and she was likely already going to have a pretty bad hangover.

“Why don’t we walk you back? We can go once Skip finishes his drink.” Malarkey offered gently. She had just watched Nixon and Winters disappear out the door, though, so she shook her head. 

“No, I’ll just go with Nixon and Winters.” She insisted. “Thanks though. I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” 

The two of them looked unsure, but had seen the Lieutenants exit, too, so they let her go, watching her stumble slightly as she rushed out the door. 

When Eleanor stepped out, she saw the two lieutenants walking up ahead with a few other soldiers scattered around outside the bar. Lipton’s announcement had successfully ended everyone’s night, it seemed. She picked up the pace to catch up with them, but it was difficult in her heels and with her currently limited coordination. 

“You shouldn’t be alone.” She heard as someone approached her from behind, and she rolled her eyes. It was the line he almost always greeted her with. 

“I was going to catch up with them, Lieutenant.” She replied, gesturing to the two men up ahead who were disappearing around a corner, the opposite way that she needed to go. Speirs watched them disappear from sight and then turned to her.

“I’ll walk you.” He said. It wasn’t quite an offer, more of a matter-of-fact statement. Not really caring one way or another at this point, she simply shrugged, before beginning to walk again with him by her side. 

 “There a reason you had so much to drink tonight?” Speirs asked, glancing at her sidelong as they walked down the cobblestone street toward the cottage Eleanor was lodged in. 

“Does there need to be one?” she asked cheekily, nearly toppling over as her heel became wedged between two cobblestones. Speirs reacted quickly, grabbing her elbow with one hand and placing the other on the small of her back as she tried to steady herself.

“That was my---m-shoes.” She said simply, trying to insist that it wasn’t because she was drunk. She brushed Speirs’ hands away and reached down to undo the straps of her shoes while he waited. After stepping out of one shoe, she began to lose her balance again, causing her to grab the side of his pant leg, steadying herself again. When she stepped out of the other one, she grabbed both shoes by the straps in one hand and stood back to her full height, already feeling more balanced. Her eye line only met Speirs’ shoulders now that she was standing barefoot.

“That’s better.” She announced. Speirs gestured forward, and they continued to walk.

“Everyone’s scared of you, you know.” She told him after a moment, unsure if she was trying to make conversation or trying to get under his skin.

“Is that so?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow. He didn’t seem too surprised or put-off by the information. 

“Yes, it is so.” She replied. “I’m not, though.” She insisted. He seemed more at ease than usual, and it was helping her alcohol-induced mood to float back to a happier place. Speirs stopped walking briefly upon hearing her pronouncement, but continued when Eleanor didn’t stop, off in her own tipsy world.

“And why’s that?” He asked as he walked alongside her, hands clasped behind his back. The two were moving at a relaxed pace, as if they were a couple on a stroll in central park, not two comrades in a war-torn country.

“Because you’re on my side.” She replied insistently, as if the answer should have been obvious. He nodded, eyeing her as she watched the cottages that lined the road, thinking about the separate lives of the people living inside. She continued her answer, more musingly now: “You are ruthless, that’s for sure. And intimidating. But you’re like...you’re more like a protector. Like a firm...a secure, and firm...you’re…” She trailed off, clearly losing her train of thought. Realizing that her drunken mouth was running away from her, she turned to see Speirs trying to suppress a grin, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. “You don’t scare me.” She finished her thought simply, sure that her face was flushing.

“I suppose I’ll just have to try harder.” He replied, earning a laugh from the young woman beside him.

“Was that a joke, Lt. Speirs?” She gasped in surprise. “That was funny!” Her bright red lipstick contrasted against her white teeth as she laughed, causing her smile, which showed just as readily in her eyes, to take on a dazzling quality that almost stopped him short. He looked away and cleared his throat.

“So...how much trouble is Dog Company in?” She asked abruptly after a few moments. She desperately wished she was just a smidge soberer. She was in control of her body, and she imagined her decision-making skills were just fine, but she was in the threshold area -- the area in which she was drunk enough to let things slip out of her mouth with no warning, but still sober enough to be embarrassed by them. Speirs seemed equally surprised by the question and unclasped his hands, placing a hand on her back to direct her to the left -- she’d almost missed the last turn to her cottage.

“We’re not in any trouble. Colonel Sink got everyone’s stories and learned the truth -- we had to retreat because Fox company ran off first. Word has it that Fox Company’s CO was relieved of his command.” He explained, as he continued to guide Eleanor, who was staring up at him as he spoke.

“Oh, good.” She replied. “I mean...I just knew there had to be some misunderstanding when Colonel Sink said you’d broken command and retreated.” She explained.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean it just...didn’t seem like you. I’m sorry Fox Company left you vulnerable.”

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to anyone.” He said adamantly. “I’m sorry  _ you all _ were left to handle it. I didn’t want to leave Easy Company to fend for itself.” He told her. They had stopped walking, and he was making unwavering eye contact with her during that last statement, as if he was trying to communicate something more to her.

“Well, we managed.” She said with a small smile and a shrug, wanting to lighten the mood, which had turned serious again too quickly. 

“ _ You _ managed.” He corrected, one corner of his mouth tipping upwards as he gave her a tiny nod of acknowledgement. Eleanor, for reasons unknown to herself, felt her chest swell with pride at this admission and tried not to smile back too broadly.

“Well, it looks like this is my stop.” She stated, clearing her throat, realizing that they had stopped right outside of the house where she was being quartered. It looked like a light had been left on in the foyer for her, but all of the bedroom lights were out. 

“Goodnight then.” He replied.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant. Thanks for walking me.” She said. He nodded, opening up the waist-high gate for her and watching as she walked up the path to the front door. He stood there until she went inside and then, straightening his posture, he closed the gate and walked off into the night.  


	10. Chapter 10

 

“Dear, come on now. You have a pretty insistent guest downstairs.” Mrs. Davies’ voice cut through Eleanor’s sleep. It wasn’t the first time her patient host had poked her head in the door that morning, but it might as well have been the first, as far as Eleanor’s memory extended. “I don’t want to let him in here, with you being indecent and all, but he says he’s not leaving until you’re up.”

Eleanor bolted upright in bed when she opened her eyes and realized how much light was streaming in the bedroom windows.

“Thank you, Mrs. Davies. I’ll be right out.” She offered as graciously as she could, despite the incessant pounding of her headache. She glanced at the clock hanging on the opposite wall and discovered that if she hurried, she could still report in time for the briefing. In what might be a record-breaking amount of time, Eleanor found herself barreling down the wooden staircase -- it helped that she didn’t have to pick out real clothes anymore -- and found Lipton waiting in the foyer. He was graciously turning down food that the Davies were offering him and his smile faded into mild annoyance when he spotted Eleanor. Of course, mild annoyance for Lipton was so subtle it was impossible to even spot without a trained eye.

“There she is.” He announced. Eleanor chose to forgo a greeting and accepted a piece of toast from Mrs. Davies with a heartfelt thank you before ushering Lipton out the front door.

“Thank you for coming after me, Lip.” She acknowledged, despite the grumpy attitude her hangover was giving her. She nibbled on the toast as they walked down the street. She wished she’d grabbed a glass of water on the way out to nurse her headache.

“Of course.” He replied. “I saw how much you had to drink last night...” He added. 

“Yes, well...not my brightest moment.” She replied.

“You feeling okay?” He asked, eyeing her sympathetically. 

“I don’t know -- ask me  _ after _ I throw up.” She replied, tossing what was left of the toast aside after she decided that she couldn’t stomach it. 

“Maybe we’ll seat you next to the door…” He thought aloud. As they arrived at the tent, he grabbed her arm gently and pulled her to the side of the tent entrance to talk to her. “Listen...I don’t mean to pry…” He continued.

“What is it?” Eleanor asked as she braided her hair in an attempt to make it look halfway decent. She wasn’t in the mood to listen to Lipton beat around the bush.

“One of the men saw you leaving the bar with Lieutenant Speirs last night…”

Eleanor stopped messing with her hair and her eyebrows scrunched together as she thought about the previous night. Ah, yes. She hadn’t been drunk enough to forget, but in her rush to get back on track for the day, she hadn’t thought once this morning about what had happened last night. Or what...hadn’t happened? It certainly wasn’t anything discussion-worthy.

“Do I need to have a conversation with him?” Lipton asked, pulling her from her thoughts. She realized that he must’ve taken her hesitance as a bad sign, as his facial expression had changed to something more serious. She was touched by his paternal attitude, but also struck by the absurdity of it all. She scoffed.

“No, you don’t need to have any  _ conversations.  _ He saw me home safely; that’s all. It’s the same thing you would have done.”

Lipton eyed her uncertainly for a moment before accepting her explanation with a nod.

“Alright, well, you should know that I’m probably not the only one who got word.” He added. Eleanor rolled her eyes, turning to enter the tent. 

“You boys have a real gossip problem.”

* * *

The offensive was called Operation Market Garden. From what Eleanor could retain (it was hard to focus on anything other than her nausea, but she did her best), there would be two branches: the airborne regiments, which would land in Eindhoven first, scope out the territory, take possession of bridges, etc. (they were the “Market”), and infantry regiments who would come in on the ground in armed assaults (they were the “Garden”). 

“Our job,” Winters had assured them “Is to liberate Eindhoven. Infiltrate it and wait for the tanks.” Nixon had likewise assured them that they weren’t expecting much resistance -- Eindhoven, at this point, was supposed to be mostly old men and children. 

“You’re looking a little green.” Johnny Martin murmured next to her as they sat listening to Nixon and watching him highlight important areas on the map. Eleanor gave him a side eye that could strike a man dead, and he tried to stifle his laughter.

“Seriously though, you alright?” He whispered. “Here, use this.” He then added with a snort, picking up her helmet from its place at her feet and holding it out in front of her like a bowl. She snatched it out of his hands and elbowed him in the side, the sudden movements causing her stomach to jolt into her throat. 

“Price, Martin.” Nixon called out, causing all eyes to turn on them. “Got a question?”

Price opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could get out a word, her stomach surged again and she was on her feet, flying down the aisle with a hand clamped over her mouth. A chorus of laughter and cheers sounded out as she disappeared through the door and the sound of wretching immediately followed.

* * *

 

Eleanor tightened the strap of the pack on the private standing before her, asking him questions about the fit to make sure that it was tight enough to stay on during the jump, but not tight enough to suffocate him. 

The replacements needed a lot of help getting their gear together and it was a welcome distraction for Eleanor -- staying busy was helping her recover from her hangover beautifully and the replacements weren’t comfortable enough with her to tease her about what had happened earlier. 

“Hey bird, you’re not going to ruin my shoes if I come over there to talk, are you?” Guarnere called as he approached with Martin and Bull. Eleanor’s eyes rolled.

“I’ll ruin something, but it won’t be your shoes.” She replied wryly. Martin snickered and Bull fought a smile.

“Come on, Nora, you know we only tease you because you’re one of us, right?” Guarnere insisted. “Bull, your boys can’t even put on a pack?” He then jabbed, watching as Eleanor stepped up to the next boy and helped him adjust his straps. 

“Or they have the good sense to accept help from a pretty lady.” Bull replied around his cigar, before grabbing one of his men and helping out as well.

“Hey, you’ll never guess who’s here.” Martin told Eleanor. 

“Winston Churchill.” She replied flippantly.

“No. It’s your nemesis.” He hinted. 

“I have a nemesis?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“It’s Sobel.” Guarnere cut in, clearly tiring of the game. Now both of Eleanor’s eyebrows rose.

“Sobel’s here?” She repeated, glancing around. “Where?”

“Last I saw him, he was grillin’ Malarkey over that motorcycle.” Guarnere replied. Eleanor bit the inside of her cheek. Sobel was only the worst possible person to have caught Malarkey with that bike. 

“He brought Popeye back with him, too.” Bull threw in. 

“What?” Eleanor exclaimed. “I wrapped that wound myself, there is no way Popeye has been released for duty.” 

“I think he’s AWOL.” Martin supplied. Eleanor’s brows furrowed. If Popeye was AWOL, wouldn’t Sobel already have him thrown in the stockade or something? She excused herself from the group and headed in the direction the men had come from.

She quickly spotted Popeye, standing surrounded by men who were joking with him and patting him on the back. 

“Pop, what’re you doing on your feet?” She asked, with a disappointed tilt of her head.

“I feel better, ma’am.” He insisted innocently.

“You can’t feel  _ that  _ much better.” She argued.

“Good enough to jump.”

“How did you wind up with Sobel?” She asked, switching gears when she knew she wasn’t going to convince him he needed rest.

“He found me on the side of the road. We were headed in the same direction, and he told me to hop in.” He explained with a half shrug.

“ _ Hop in?”  _ Eleanor echoed. Was she thinking of the right Sobel?

When she finally found Sobel, he was overseeing some men unloading equipment from a truck.  _ A supply officer.  _ Nobody had mentioned  _ that  _ part to her.

“Sir.” She greeted, saluting him. He returned the salute; she thought she spotted a hint of surprise in his expression, though he was clearly trying to cover it. 

“Price.” He replied. “I see that you’re still kicking.” He added, though it didn’t hold the raw animosity that his insults used to. He seemed almost...uncertain of himself. Perhaps he’d been humbled and had a change of heart?

“Yes, sir.” She said, her lips turning up a bit at the corners. “I had good training.”

She wasn’t sure what moved her to say it, but she was surprised to find that she meant it. As cruel as Sobel was, he really had prepared Easy Company for war. Sobel nodded after a moment, clearly unsure how to respond. 

“Yes, well, don’t you have someone to report to?” He reminded her after a moment, effectively dismissing her. Eleanor held back the eyeroll that threatened to show itself and nodded, leaving the man to his thoughts. 

 

* * *

 

Eleanor was relieved that there was no immediate danger when they landed outside Eindhoven, because the replacements were a bit of a mess. She couldn’t blame them -- she still wasn’t the most graceful at landing on her feet and gathering her chute -- but some of them looked like they’d never even practiced it before. Once she got herself situated, she followed Bull’s lead and rushed around helping the others. 

Once they were all in formation, they moved according to the maps Nixon had gone over with them -- moving swiftly and silently through ditches and across fields. They hadn’t landed too far outside of Eindhoven, so it didn’t take long before they were crouching outside of its limits, guns drawn. For a few long, tense moments, they could do nothing but sit there and pray they wouldn’t have to fire, and then finally, slowly, the windows of the town began to open. First, orange flags appeared in the windows. Then, the cheering began.

It was strange for everyone to be so excited to see them. Though she was trying not to, Nora couldn’t help but feel a little bit paranoid in the face of their enthusiasm. The cobblestone streets were flooded with people, so it didn’t help that bodies were crowding into her space from every side. She’d made it a point to find Winters and Nixon and they stayed close, clearly sensing her discomfort. She subtly shrank away from anyone who bumped into her. Nixon raised an eyebrow at her.

“You okay?” 

“Just don’t want to get kissed.” She replied over the noise of the celebration, earning a smile from both men. She’d seen a number of her fellow soldiers grabbed and kissed by the jubilant women.

“Don’t worry. There’s a line for that, and I don’t think the Easy boys are gonna let the dutch cut in front of them.” 

“Very funny.” Eleanor retorted. 

“Just stay close.” Winters told her. She nodded -- she didn’t need to be told twice. Eleanor gasped as someone pushed past her, knocking her into Nixon, who grabbed her by the elbows to steady her. She turned to see that she’d been knocked aside by a couple of men who were struggling to drag a woman in a pink dress through the crowd. Nora and the men drew forward and followed naturally, until they came to a circle in the middle of the crowd. The men shoved the woman into the middle of the courtyard and torn her dress so that her slip was showing. The woman began to sob.

“What are they doing?” Eleanor asked aloud, panic rising in her voice. Winters gently took hold of one of her arms, partially to comfort her, and partially because he expected that she might surge forward and get involved. 

When nobody answered her, Eleanor turned to look at them, searching Winters and Nixon’s solemn expressions. She turned back to the spectacle and her stomach lurched. They were shaving the woman’s head. There were a number of women being humiliated, some of them with swastikas drawn on their heads in ash.

“We have to stop it.” She said to no one in particular. “What are their crimes?”

“They slept with the Germans.” a new voice answered. Nora whipped around to see that a dutch man in a sport coat had joined their conversation. “They’re lucky. The men who collaborated are being shot.”

“I don’t care what they did --” Nora began, her tone clipped, but Winters squeezed her arm, pulling her away as she tried to step closer to the man.

“Nora,” He murmured, leaning closer to her so that she could hear him over the noise. “Nora, don’t.”

Eleanor yanked out of his grip and crossed her arms but said nothing. Winters and Nixon turned to continue speaking to the man, who introduced himself as a member of the dutch resistance. Eleanor tuned the conversation out, turning to look back at the spectacle once more -- she didn’t want to, but she forced herself to watch anyway, as if the act of acknowledging the wrongdoing in action could somehow help. As they dragged in a new woman to degrade, they shoved another out of the circle, leaving her to her misery.

Eleanor watched one of the released women tear through the crowd in tears as people mocked and jeered at her now-bald head. She stood for a few moments, biting her lip, before following after the woman, elbowing anyone who got in her way. Struggling to keep an eye on the woman’s white slip as she surged through the crowd, she finally managed to track her to an alleyway. The woman sat curled against a stone wall, sobbing with her face buried in her knees. Her slip was torn and smudged with dirt and her head still held a few random patches of hair and blood from the hack-job haircut she’d received. 

Eleanor approached quietly and slowly kneeled in front of the woman. When her boot made a scuffing noise against the cobblestone, the girl’s head flew up and she pushed herself farther into the wall, away from her. Eleanor held up a calming hand and pulled off her helmet. The girl seemed to relax upon realizing that she’d been approached by a woman, not a man. She looked a few years younger than Eleanor. Barely a woman, even.

“Do you speak English?” Eleanor asked. The girl nodded but said nothing. Her tear-stained face was dirty and she had that telltale swastika on her forehead. “May I?” Eleanor asked softly, gesturing to the space beside her. When she didn’t get a response, she shifted to sit next to the girl.

“What’s your name?” She asked. “My name’s Eleanor.”

There was a long silence and the notes of a drinking song the crowd nearby had begun singing drifted through the alley. 

“Mila.” The girl responded after a while. 

Eleanor pulled out her canteen and a small piece of gauze, dabbing it with water. The girl flinched but didn’t pull away as Eleanor slowly began to wipe away the ashes on her forehead. Eleanor didn’t know what to say -- didn’t think there was anything she  _ could  _ say. Even if she could think of something comforting, it would only be patronizing coming from her. Because no matter how much she wanted to fix this, to help this girl, she knew she only had this one interaction before she moved on and left the girl to her misery. So she would do what she did best -- what she was trained to do. She would clean away the dirt, bind up her cuts and scrapes, and then move on to the next one. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One thing I want to address with this update: you'll notice that in this chapter I have made a definitive switch to using "Nora" in the narration instead of Eleanor. The more I've worked on this story, the more I've come to (like the men) think of her as "Nora," and I haven't been able to go back in and edit it to make the switch more gradual.

 

"You alright?" Luz asked quietly from beside Nora. They were sitting atop a tank as they pulled into Nuenen - the next town that they were supposed to be liberating. "Heard you didn't enjoy Eindhoven as much as the rest of us." He added. Nora shrugged.

"I'm fine." She said. It wouldn't do to dwell on it, after all. Besides, Lipton had already pulled her aside and talked to her about it, and she was feeling a little bit better now that they'd left. She was hoping Nuenen wouldn't be anything like that - a foolish hope, as Eindhoven had been blessedly peaceful compared to what they were about to endure. Luz accepted the answer without any pressing, and they watched the countryside drift by, trying not to hold their breath thinking about the conflict that might lie ahead.

About a half-mile after they entered Nuenen, the caravan of tanks passed by a woman holding her baby on the side of the road. She was dressed in rags and her head had been shaved - clearly a victim of the same treatment as Mila. The soldiers all sobered and quieted as they approached, looking on the woman in pity. Nora sent an inquiring look at Lipton and he shook his head. There was no time to stop and speak to the woman or check up on her. Luz watched Nora deflate and reached into his pocket, pulling out a C-ration.

"Mellet," He called down to one of the Privates walking alongside the tank. The young man looked up and Luz tossed him the box, nodding toward the woman. The Private walked over and placed it in her hands as they passed and the woman nodded her appreciation to him. Nora relaxed a bit and leaned her head back against the metal tank, thankful to be serving with men who seemed to understand her well enough.

A few minutes later, the caravan abruptly came to a stop and Nora leaned forward to see what was happening. They'd stopped on the outskirts of the small town and a lieutenant had wandered up ahead, taking a look at it through his binoculars.

"Get a load of General Patton!" One of the men called jokingly.

"What's he doing?" Nora asked aloud to no one in particular, the hair on the back of her neck raising as she watched him. He had no cover whatsoever. Bull was quick to act, climbing down and calling out to the lieutenant in warning, but it was too late - the sound of a bullet came zipping through the air, and the lieutenant hit the ground with a spurt of blood.

"Off the tracks!" The men started screaming as they jumped down, "Everyone to the ditch! Get to the ditch!"

Luz reached out to grab onto the sleeve of Nora's uniform when she jumped down, but it was too late and she slipped out of his grasp, running toward the fallen lieutenant. She slid to her knees next to the soldier and tried to flatten herself out as much as possible - she was the first to make it to him, but Bull was right on her heels, kneeling down as well.

"You're doing great, Lieutenant." She told the boy, who was already holding his own neck to keep the blood from flowing out. "Bull, help him keep pressure on it."

Bull did as she instructed, and she began packing the wound with gauze, pushing it under his bloody fingers. "Keep moving! Get up!" He was screaming at his platoon, who were still squatting in the ditch at the side of the road. Nora placed her hands over his so that he could slip his own off the wound.

"Go, Bull." She ordered. "I've got it."

"Are you sure?" He called back over the gunfire. A bullet ricocheted off the dirt near them, but Nora's eyes were trained on the lieutenant as she continued to speak to him calmly.

"Yes, go!" She insisted, and Bull ran off to corral his men out of the ditch. "Lieutenant, what's your name?" She asked the young man.

"Brewer." he whispered hoarsely.

"You can speak. That's a good sign, Brewer." She assured him. "I need you to relax and focus on me. We're going to get the bleeding under control before we move you." After a few minutes, she let up on the pressure just a bit to look underneath and try to discern where the bullet had entered and exited. If she was right, it should've avoided all major arteries.

"I think you got lucky, lieutenant."

"Really?" He rasped.

"Don't speak." She instructed him, reapplying pressure. She could hear the chaos of battle going on behind her in the town and prayed that the wounded wouldn't be too much for Roe and the other medics to handle. She wasn't going to leave this soldier until she was confident his wound was clotting and she could get a bandage on it. A few more minutes passed and the bleeding had slowed, though not as much as she would've liked.

"Let's get you bandaged up." She announced. She wrapped the bandages carefully, in a pattern that put pressure on the wounded spot. Nixon and Winters appeared at the tanks and Winters rushed to her side.

"How is he?" He asked.

"I've done all I can do here - he needs to be evacuated to an aid station." She replied.

"We'll get him loaded onto a jeep." Winters said, nodding. "We're gonna have to fall back."

"Already?" Nora asked, whipping around to look at the scene behind her. She'd heard the tanks exploding the whole time, and could now see that half the town had been destroyed and that the men were scrambling under a rain of gunfire. She turned back to address Winters. "I'm gonna go help."

Winters looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't. There could be wounded in there, and it was her job to see to it that those boys made it back when the order went out. Nora left the lieutenant in his care and dropped down into the ditch, trying to keep low as she made her way into town. She stepped over a couple of soldiers along the way, stooping down to nudge them in case they were still alive. They weren't.

The further in she ran, the more chaotic things got. There were heavy artillery explosions everywhere, and large chunks of stone would've been her undoing if she hadn't been wearing her helmet. The men must've gotten the order to fall back, because they flooded into the same ditch and started running back out of town, screaming at each other to keep moving.

"You're going the wrong way!" Cobb yelled as she passed him. She continued to push past the long string of panicked men, having now latched onto a 'medic' cry up ahead. As she got closer, she recognized the voice as Malarkey, and a lump formed in her throat. When she finally reached the sound, she stepped over Malarkey and Skip and dropped down next to Buck, whose face was screwed up in pain. He was lying supine and reaching around to hold his backside, so Nora rolled him onto his side and began checking him out, no questions asked. There was both an entry and an exit wound. Probably two of each, Nora thought, as she stared at his clothed backside in amazement.

"It went straight through, side to side." She announced. She ripped open his pants in the back and began to apply gauze to the four holes as best she could, wanting to staunch the bleeding a bit.

"I'm getting to know you guys too well." She complained over the sound of gunfire, earning a pained laugh from Buck. The light moment was ruined by a piece of artillery that hit near the side of the ditch, sending dirt flying everywhere. Nora ducked for cover, throwing herself over the wound to keep it clean as best she could.

"Malarkey, get 'em out of here. Go!" Buck commanded.

"What?" Malarkey said, alarmed.

"Just leave me here for the Germans." Buck continued.

"Are you nuts?" Malarkey exclaimed.

"We'll carry you." Skip said.

"Are you kiddin' me? I weigh more than both of you two guys combined." Buck argued. Nora and Malarkey exchanged a look, knowing that they couldn't leave him there but not sure what else to do.

"Come on." Malarkey told Skip, who followed him as he got up and exited the ditch. "Nora, stay here with him."

"I'm serious, Nora." Buck continued after they ran off. "You should go."

"Shut your trap, Buck Compton."

When Malarkey and Skip reappeared a minute later, they came with Guarnere and a giant oak door in tow.

"Alright, Compton, time to go." Nora announced, stepping away as the men grabbed him and hauled him up onto the door. Shouldering the other end, they began to drag him across the grass out of Nuenen. Because the door was too wide, they couldn't use the ditch for cover, and Nora was concerned that Buck would become target practice, so she walked behind him, hoping that her medic's badge would help to redirect some of the gunfire.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!" Winters was screaming as they finally made it back to the tanks. The men dragged Buck onward toward one of the trucks and Nora hung back when Nixon gestured for her.

"How bad?" He asked.

"I'm not sure; but it didn't look too goo-" Nora was cut off as a bullet ricocheted off of Nix's helmet, throwing him to the ground. It happened so quickly and was so surprising that Nora did something she didn't do often - she screamed.

"Nix!" Winters cried when he saw his best friend fall. Nora and Dick fell to their knees next to him, helping him into a sitting position.

"I'm alright. I'm alright." Nix was saying, dazed. "...Am I alright?"

"Yeah." Dick replied as Nora pushed his hair back and looked at his head. "You feel alright?"

"Yeah, quit looking at me like that." Nix insisted, still shocked, as he swatted Nora's hands away. The three of them crawled over to take better cover next to the wheel of a jeep, and Lipton approached to report on the men. As he spoke to Winters about the casualties, Nora continued to fuss over Nixon, turning his head to look at her.

"Nora, seriously, I'm fine." He complained, clearly wanting to forget the whole experience as soon as possible.

"You could have a concussion, Lewis. Look at me." She said. He continued to harumph, but did as she asked. She held his head and looked into his eyes for a few moments, asking him to follow her finger with his gaze.

"I think you're okay." She finally announced, relieved. "Put your helmet back on." She then added as an afterthought.

"Don't have to tell me twice." Nixon murmured, putting the damaged helmet back on his head as he got up and left.

"Okay, let's move 'em out." Winters announced. "Price, go with Lipton and help see to the 11 wounded."

Nora nodded, moving to follow Lipton, but he stopped "Sir, Randleman's missing, too." Winters hesitated for a moment.

"Randleman?"

"Yes, sir."

The three were quiet for a long moment.

"Okay, let's go." Winters said, finally.

Nora followed Lipton back to the trucks while listening to him brief her on the injuries. It sounded like none, with the exception of Lieutenant Brewer's, were too bad - and Brewer had been sent ahead of them in the direction of an aid station. Nora located the truck that Buck had been loaded into the back of and climbed up with the help of Guarnere.

"One bullet, four holes." Guarnere announced in amazement, as if Nora didn't already know.

"Let's take a better look." She told Buck, sitting on the bed of the truck next to him as it lurched into motion and began driving away from Nuenen.

* * *

Once they were a good few miles away from Nuenen, the caravan pulled over on the side of the road and the company walked down into an empty field to sit and wait for further instructions. Nora went around with Roe helping the injured for the first couple of hours and then settled in with some of the guys when darkness fell.

"Any good news?" Luz asked as she plopped down next to him in the grass. He, Malarkey, Skip, and a few others were all sitting around chewing the fat. Everyone looked ready to fall over from exhaustion, including Nora.

"I heard Lieutenant Brewer's gonna make it." She said quietly, shrugging a shoulder.

"That's good." Malarkey piped up. The terrible silence that fell over them clearly had to do with Randleman's disappearance, but none of them wanted to bring it up, so Malarkey kept talking. "I'm gonna have kinks in my neck for a week." He groaned.

"Yeah, at least you didn't spend half the day in Buck Compton's ass crack." Nora quipped, causing shocked laughter to erupt among the men. Someone in the distance called out 'noise discipline!' and they quieted down. Nora didn't often resort to foul humor around the men, so when she did, it always took them by surprise and served as a morale booster. Besides, Buck's million-dollar wound was getting funnier and funnier to Nora ever since they'd been out of danger, and she'd had the chance to think about it.

"That was quick thinking with the door." She complimented Malarkey, nudging him with her foot where he was laying near her in the grass.

"That's why they keep bringing me along," He teased, grabbing her foot before she could nudge him with it again.

"Alright, folks," Lipton announced, walking up to the group and crouching to speak with them. "Looks like we're gonna hunker down here for the night and head out in the morning. Get some sleep."

The men all began to pull gear for the night out of their bags but Nora just sighed and laid back in the grass, letting her back pop and stretch. She could fall asleep right like that.

"Hey sleepyhead, might wanna pull out a blanket." Skip called jokingly. Nora waved a dismissive hand, refusing to move from her spot.

"I got it. Don't strain yourself" Luz announced sarcastically, and she felt him rifling around in her bag next to her.

Nora began to drift, replaying the day's events in her head. The loss of Bull was a hard one, and she prayed that he was not a prisoner of war. At the same time, she hoped that he was alive. Today had been one of the hardest battles yet - they'd had to retreat, and it hadn't felt good. But Nora also couldn't help feeling that this battle was a step forward for her. For the first time, the men - several of them - had trusted her to strike out on her own and make her own decisions. Luz had chosen not to stand in the way of her duty when she ran off, Bull had chosen the welfare of his men instead of staying to watch her, and Winters had allowed her to run headfirst into a failing battle while the men retreated.

"Nora, you've still got your helmet on." Luz reminded her, thinking she looked awfully uncomfortable. But she was already fast asleep.

"Ah, leave her be." Skip insisted.

* * *

When Lipton nudged her awake, Nora felt like she had just entered the world for the first time, she had been sleeping so hard. She groaned and rolled onto her side. She had to have been laying flat on her back all night long on the hard ground, because her muscles screamed at the movement. Lipton, that gentle soul, was trying his hardest not to smirk, and she cringed to think about what she'd just looked like sleeping.

"Bull's back." He announced after a moment. That got Nora's full attention and she sat up quickly.

"Is he alright?" She asked, wadding up her blanket and the other things Luz had apparently pulled out of her pack for her.

"He's fine. We move out in five." He replied, watching her gather her things. She threw on her pack and followed him over to where all the other men were gathered around Bull. Before she could approach and give the man a proper greeting, Skip turned around and called out to her.

"Hey! If it isn't Snore-a Price!" He greeted. The other men turned and greeted her with a chorus of the same nickname: "Snore-a!" "Hey Snore-a!" "How'd you sleep, Snore-a?"

Nora stopped and turned to Lipton, giving him a baleful look that demanded an explanation. Instead of providing one, Lipton ran a hand over his face, trying to hide his laughter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

 

Nora groaned as she lowered herself to the ground next to Luz, who was speaking quietly to Winters. They’d holed up in a barn for the evening and the men were all buzzing around, looking for places to crash. 

“Hey Price, there’s a pile of hay up there with your name on it.” Webster called, pointing to a loft above his head.  

“She’s allergic, Webster.” Luz retorted with a blunt look. Nora elbowed him, not appreciating his tone. It was kind of Webster to try and reserve the best spot for her.

“I’m not  _ allergic.”  _ She argued. “It just gives me hives.”

“Otherwise known as  _ being allergic _ .” Luz said. Nora rolled her eyes and chose not to engage any further on the matter. Talbert came over and sat with them, followed by the dog that had eagerly greeted everyone when they entered the barn. Nora greeted the animal with the kind of excited gasp that intentionally riles up dogs, and it climbed over her legs, getting as close to her face as possible. Luz lured it away from licking her face by pulling out a small piece of jerky and feeding it. 

“This is one hell of a dog, Tab.” Luz said. Tab threw a bone that he’d found across the room, and the dog followed it. 

“What’d you call him, Tab?” Dick asked. Nora studied his face, secretly trying to determine if he was a dog person or a cat person. 

“Trigger.” Tab responded. 

“That’s good. Trigger. I like that.” Luz decided, shoving a cracker into his mouth and offering one to Nora, who gladly accepted. 

“Anything on this?” Tab asked, gesturing to the phone they were waiting by. 

“Nope, it’s all quiet.” Luz replied. Tab opened his mouth to respond, but the doors to the barn suddenly burst open, causing everyone to jump to their feet. 

“We’ve got penetration!” someone was shouting as a soldier was carried in with blood on his face. 

“It’s Alley!” Some of the men chorused, rushing to help carrying the man. Nora pushed through them. This is clearly the result of a grenade.

“Get him on the table.” She commanded. “Easy, though! Easy.” 

The men did as they were told and gathered around the table, telling Alley to hold on and that it would be okay. 

“Tab, I need my kit.” Nora said, causing the man to rush over to where they’d just been sitting and grab it for her. “Boyle, go get Doc Roe.”

After receiving her kit, she pulled out morphine, sulfa, and antiseptics -- it looked like he’d mostly been burned, with just a few pieces of embedded shrapnel. He would need to go to the hospital to get those out, but for now, she could stop the bleeding and treat the burns. She took his chin and flashed a light in his eyes. They were dilated from being out in the dark, but it didn’t look like he’d sustained any serious head injuries.

“Alley, just look at my face, okay?” She told him soothingly as she worked. “You’re gonna be just fine.”  

“Where was it?” Dick was asking the men from behind her shoulder. 

“The crossroads.” Liebgott answered.

“They never would’ve known we were there if it wasn’t for your loud mouth --” someone began, but Nora interrupted them sharply. 

“Winters, how about taking this conversation elsewhere.” She suggested, trying to keep her tone light as Alley continued to watch her face. He needed to hear soothing words right now, not chaos and finger-pointing. 

“Right. Lipton, assemble first squad and have them meet me outside.” Winters ordered. Lipton shouted the orders, and most of the men ran out. Boyle and Liebgott stayed behind to help, and Roe arrived, assessing the situation.

“You should go with them.” Nora told him, having decided that she would be okay as long as she had some helping hands. Roe hesitated for a moment, before nodding.

“That leg needs to be elevated.” He said, “And you gotta get sulfa powder on that bleeding first.”

“We can handle it. Go.” 

Roe ran off again, and Nora had Boyle elevate the leg while Liebgott sprinkled the sulfa on his leg. Thankfully, the shrapnel in his leg hadn’t knicked the femoral artery. 

“Not too much.” Nora cautioned Liebgott on the sulfa as she began bandaging the leg. After she managed to bandage the two largest wounds, she bound up the cut on his forehead and took to treating some of the burns. She tried to speak to him as much as possible, but he was in shock and unresponsive. Still, the assurances were worth something, so she continued. 

After about 45 minutes, he was stable enough for them to load him in a jeep. Nora climbed into the back with him, leaning over him so that he could still see her face and hear her voice. He had attempted to speak a couple of times by now, but she’d quieted him, not wanting to over exert himself in his shock. As they were pulling away in the direction of the nearest aid station, Nora prayed that whatever activity was going on out in the night wouldn’t affect their travel.

 

* * *

  
  


When Nora returned from the aid station with Liebgott and Boyle, it was morning and the other men had gone out as reinforcements for first squad. It must have turned into a much larger conflict than expected, and she hoped that there were no casualties. The three of them hadn’t even gone back into the barn, simply jumping out of the jeep and heading on foot to the crossroads. 

By the time she got there, the field was littered with wounded men -- 22 in total. By the time Nora had gotten to the third or fourth one, the conflict had died down and her men had come out on top. Dead and wounded S.S. soldiers were everywhere, and the survivors were being rounded up as prisoners. As Nora worked on one wounded soldier, she noticed Liebgott laying on his stomach, firing at a wounded German soldier across the field who was desperately trying to crawl away. The taste of bile swelled into her mouth at the sight, and she called for Winters, who went to stop him after she nodded in that direction. 

Hours later, after all the wounded were stabilized and loaded onto stretchers, Nora sighed and pulled herself up to sit on the back of a jeep next to Malarkey. He offered her his canteen and she drank from it with a grateful nod. Another night that all of them had gone without sleep. 

“Alley?” He asked, his voice uncertain.

“He’ll be okay.” Nora assured him. “We had to take him to the aid station, or else he wouldn’t have lasted until morning. They got him to a hospital, so they’ll be able to fix him up just fine.” 

 “Word is that the Germans have been trying to retreat from this area, so we should have a couple days’ rest.” Malarkey told her. 

“That would be wonderful, but I’m not holding my breath.” Nora replied, capping the canteen and giving it back to him.

 

* * *

 

As much as she’d wanted to be wrong, the rest period  _ had  _ been short-lived. They had gone to battalion HQ to await new orders while the higher-ups discussed strategy. To Nora’s surprise, Dick Winters was now one of those higher-ups. She hadn’t known how to take the news. On the one hand, everyone knew it would happen sooner or later. On the other hand, it was hard for any of them to picture themselves trusting a new C.O. as much as Winters. However, Moose Heyliger seemed like a worthy candidate as anyone, and he was accepted rather quickly by the company, despite being an outsider. 

Nora didn’t have much interaction with Heyliger until he pulled her aside one evening. They were preparing to go on a nightime mission -- the first Heyliger would be leading -- with the British to free some of their men who had become POWs. Nora was excited but also nervous to be coordinating with the British men. Would E Company work as seamlessly with them as they did alone? She was pondering this when Heyliger pulled her aside. 

“I’m having you sit this one out.” He told her, getting straight to the point. Nora hadn’t been expecting this and was quiet for a long moment as she combed through the last week in her mind, trying to find out what she’d done wrong. 

“Can I ask why?” She finally asked, coming up with nothing on her own. 

“It’s a stealth mission, so I don’t want to bring more men than I need to,” He told her, “and I think we can make do with Roe.” 

That wasn’t really an explanation, Nora thought. She wasn’t sure why she was so bothered -- she and Roe took turns doing things all the time. She’d just sat out of a battle two days ago without any qualms. But she wasn’t sitting it out to help someone else -- to  _ do _ something else -- this time. She was just sitting it out. Besides, she knew how many men were going on this mission. Without her, the infantry-to-medic ratio was going to be skewed. If it went south, Roe would be overwhelmed. 

“I’ve discussed it with Winters. You’ll stay here at battalion.” He repeated with a note of finality. Nora wanted to argue, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She didn’t hate Heyliger, and she didn’t want to start their working relationship off on the wrong foot. She nodded, stepping away.

“Good luck.”

* * *

Nora entered Nixon and Winters’ quarters and went up the stairs after they called for her to come in. They had a nice place set up in the attic, where Winters was currently sitting behind his typewriter, and Nix was downing a glass of Vat69. 

“Got any more of that?” Nora asked, nodding at the glass. Nixon smiled and went to pour her some. 

“Everything okay?” Winters asked, eyeing her. She could ask him the same thing -- he looked miserable. Nora accepted the glass from Nix and took a swig, grimacing. 

“This is what you’ve been drinking this whole time?” She asked, her tone incredulous. Nix laughed. Pulling up a chair for her, which she accepted. The three were quiet for a long moment, as the two men watched her sip from the tumbler, waiting. 

“Did you tell Heyliger to bench me?” She finally asked, staring into the glass. 

“I told him to do what he thought was best.” Dick said, his tone allowing no apologies, though his gaze was sympathetic. “Easy Company isn’t mine anymore. I’ve got to let him take command.” 

Nora was silent, contemplating. 

“He’s from another company,” Nix chimed in, trying to be helpful. “He hasn’t had the time to get to know you -- to see you in action.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t like you. He’s just trying to wrap his head around how to handle it. It took me a while to come around, too. Remember?” Dick agreed. This was true. But she had spent all of the time and energy required to get him there. And he _had_ come around. And now she had to start over? She was going to have to prove herself to every new officer she met for the duration of the war? She’d known this would be the case, of course, going in. But it hit harder now -- now that she’d made so much ground and was being forced to take two steps back. 

“I understand.” She said finally. She wanted to say more. To point out that the ratio of infantrymen-to-medics that Heyliger was using was dangerous. But Dick was right -- he had to set boundaries and let Heyliger figure things out for himself. And she needed to take matters into her own hands and show the new C.O. that he could trust her. 

“Just keep doing the best you can and don’t worry about it.” Dick advised. “I’ll talk to Heyliger though -- vouch for you as much as I can.”

“Thanks.” Nora said with a soft smile. 

 

* * *

 

Nora had just gotten back to her quarters and settled into bed when the knock came. She’d been out late celebrating the successful mission with everyone. It had been uncomfortable listening to them talk about it, and she hadn’t stayed long, but she of course wanted to celebrate the safe return of all of the men. The mission had gone so well that they hadn’t needed a medic at all, and for that, she was relieved, even if it meant admitting that Heyliger might have been right.

Nora opened the door to a panicked young replacement, whose name she regrettably hadn’t learned just yet, and he beckoned her to come with him. She ran after him, pausing only to grab her medical kit and leaving her jacket and helmet behind. They stopped at a patch of dirt near the railroad tracks where a medical evac vehicle was already waiting with open doors. She went around to the back to see Winters, Welsh, and Roe trying to get Heyliger onto a stretcher. 

“Where’s he hit?” She asked, breathless. 

“One in the leg, one in the abdomen, and two in the chest.” Roe announced. Nora’s heart thumped hard against her chest. It didn’t sound good. “Did you give him morphine?” He asked the men.

“Yeah.” Winters replied.

“How much?” Nora asked, noticing that the markers weren’t on his jacket.

“I can’t remember. Two, three surrettes maybe?” Winters asked, obviously frazzled. 

“ _ Three surrettes maybe?”  _ Roe repeated, “Jesus Christ, were you trying to kill him?” 

“Moose, stay with me. Try and stay awake. I’m right here with you.” Nora spoke to the barely-conscious man, trying to drown out the sound of Dick’s panic and Roe’s anger. 

“You don’t think it might be important to let me know how much mediation the man has had, huh?” Roe continued as they lifted the stretcher up and slid it into the ambulance. 

“I’m sorry, Doc.” Winters said. 

“Sure is a good thing he’s a big man,” Roe said as Winters gave Nora a hand-up to help her into the ambulance. “Maybe he’ll stand a chance.” 

Nora could’ve choked him for saying such a thing right in front of Heyliger, who was surely keen to at least  _ some  _ of what was happening around him. 

“He was in a lot of pain, doc. We didn’t know what to do.” Welsh told him. 

“Yeah, well you oughta.” Roe snapped. “You are officers. You are grown-ups. You oughta know.” 

“Roe, enough. Shut those doors, and let’s get this damn thing moving.” Nora chided. Winters closed up the back doors and the drivers pulled out. Nora and Roe shifted to continue working on the gunshot wounds. 

“How’s the leg?” Nora asked as her hands moved quickly to stop the bleeding on his chest. He didn’t respond and when she glanced up at him, he was shaking his head. The femoral artery was hit. Nora’s hands shook a bit, but she kept working as Roe put a tourniquet on the leg. With as much blood as he would’ve already lost from that artery, not to mention the amount of morphine he was given, it was unlikely that they would make it to the hospital. They continued to work in silence.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 

_ December 10, 1944, Mourmelon-le-Grand, France _

 

When Nora had complained about Captain Sobel, it had been without the knowledge that someone like Lt. Norman Dike existed. She would gladly take Sobel back now -- missed him, even. And she missed Moose Heyliger, who hadn’t even had a proper chance to lead, even more.

But most of all, she missed Dick Winters. He was still around, of course. She’d seen him regularly in the months they’d spent in Mourmelon, but it wasn’t the same, and it was always in passing. This was why she’d insisted on sitting down to lunch with him when they got passes to Paris that coincided. She’d convinced Lipton to tag along as well. The two of them were having a conversation about the things they did and didn’t like about Paris when they noticed that Dick was no longer paying attention.

“Winters, are you alright?” Nora asked, bringing his attention back. He was obviously having a hard time with losing Easy Company. Nix had also mentioned that he was still taking a kill he’d made back in October pretty hard.

“Yes, sorry. Just tired.” He told them.

“Late nights discussing strategy?” Lipton asked. 

“Something like that.” Dick replied, still distant. 

“Well, you should take a break in the evenings. Come see that John Wayne film they won’t stop showing.” Nora suggested.

“Maybe.” Dick replied with a close-lipped smile. “I’m sorry to run out on you, but I think I’ll take the bus back and catch some rest, if that’s alright.” He said, placing some money on the table for his meal. 

“Of course,” Nora said. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you around.” 

After he left, Lipton and Nora exchanged a concerned look. 

“He’ll be fine.” Lipton assured her. “He just misses Easy.” 

“Well, it misses him, too.” She said as Lipton motioned for the check.

“What do you say we go walk around and spend some money?” He suggested. 

“Yeah, I guess I’d better spend the money I took from Malarkey before he talks me into

giving him a chance to win it back.” Nora said, earning a laugh from her friend. 

 

* * *

Nora sighed as she tapped her pen against the wooden table. The page in front of her was still empty except for the words ‘ _ Dear Mrs. Meehan,’  _ which she’d carefully scrawled at the top. The other men had long since filtered out of the large dining hall (which was also used as a multi-purpose area for lounging/playing cards after dinner), some in search of sleep and others in search of alcohol. Nora had wanted to grab a peaceful moment to take care of the thing that had been weighing on her heavily for months now. She rested her head in her hands, causing her hair to fall around it in a curtain -- it had grown rather long in the last six months. She had considered cutting it many times, but now that the weather was much colder, she was concerned she would miss it if she did. 

“Dear John?” A voice pulled her from her thoughts. She tensed in surprise and relaxed with a small sigh when she saw Speirs approaching. He was another person that she’d seen frequently in Mourmelon but only in passing. Nora stared at him for a moment, not immediately comprehending the question. He took a seat across from her, lighting a cigarette.

“The letter,” He clarified, nodding to the sheet of paper. 

“Oh,” Nora replied. “No, it’s not.” 

“You seem troubled over it.” He observed. He took a long pull of his cigarette and then tapped it against the edge of the ashtray on the table before returning it to his lips. Nora watched the action, trying to decide how much she felt like sharing.

“I still haven’t written Mrs. Meehan.” She admitted finally. He didn’t respond, and Nora kept speaking to fill the silence. “Lipton says I don’t need to write. That it might provide more questions than answers.” She explained. She fidgeted under his calculating gaze. “You know, since I’m…”

Nora trailed off, unsure why she was even explaining herself. 

“It doesn’t matter.” She decided, gathering her pen and papers and moving to get up. “I’ll just do it later.”

“I could write it.” He offered, though his tone was more matter-of-fact. Nora sat back down in surprise, staring at him. “You can still say what you want, it’ll just be coming from a man.”

Nora considered this for a moment, chewing on the inside of her cheek. 

“I don’t want to lie to her.”

“Don’t need to.” Speirs said, motioning toward the paper in her hands “Give it here.”

Nora slid the pen and paper to him. He placed his cigarette in the ashtray and took the pen. He looked at what she’d written and crumpled the paper in favor of writing on one of the fresh ones underneath. Nora watched as he carefully wrote the date and recreated ‘ _ Dear Mrs. Meehan’  _ in his own neat script. 

“My name is…” Speirs trailed off out loud as he began writing “Lt. Ronald Speirs, and I served with your husband in Aldbourne.” All true so far. He stopped and it wasn’t until he glanced back up at her that Nora realized she was supposed to continue.

“Tom was one of the finest leaders we’ve had.” She began, feeling uncomfortable and unsatisfied with the way the words came out. Speirs didn’t seem to think anything of it, writing them down exactly as she dictated. 

“He was incredibly brave and selfless,” she continued, “Always going out of his way to make sure that his men were well taken-care-of.”

She paused for a few moments to think and Speirs waited patiently. 

“All of the men loved and respected him, with good reason.” She continued. “When his plane was hit, Thomas spent every last moment attempting to save his men. One soldier is alive today because of his efforts.” She paused again, swallowing the lump in her throat at the mention of what he’d done for her. 

“I know it is a small consolation for your loss,” she began again, “but I wanted you to know that your husband had a lasting impact on countless lives during his time in Easy Company. He is dearly missed.”

It was quiet for a minute as Speirs caught up and finished writing. 

“Should I...add anything else?” She asked, suddenly unsure of herself again.

“Do you have anything else to say?” He asked. She shook her head.

“Then it’s done.” He replied, signing it. “Do you wanna send it, or should I?”

“I’ll do it.” She told him, taking the letter from him and glancing over it. She exhaled deeply as she looked over it, relieved that the deed was finally done. “Thank you. For helping.” She added after a moment. Speirs shrugged a shoulder and picked his cigarette back up from the ashtray.

“I liked Meehan.” He said. Nora suppressed a smile at the admission. 

“Well, I should probably try to catch some shut-eye,” She said, getting to her feet. “Thanks again. I’ll see you around.”

“Lieutenant.” Speirs called out as she was walking away. “We’re probably gonna be heading out soon. Be careful out there.”

* * *

The next night, Nora sat next to Luz in the theater room while they showed the John Wayne film for the twentieth time. 

“Look at me. I’m John Wayne. The costume department set me up with these great Navy Whites. Whaddaya think?” Luz mimicked loudly, his voice punctuating in a distinct John Wayne impression. Toye and Lipton, who sat in front of them, turned to glare at him. 

“Luz, shut up.” Toye whispered.

“I’m trying to watch this.” Lipton griped. 

“I’ve seen this movie thirteen times,” Luz complained, dropping the impression. 

“Well I haven’t, so shut up.” Toye said. Luz sighed but stopped his commentary. Behind them, Malarkey was loudly trying to scoot past everybody and get Skips attention, which turned everyone’s ire on him for the moment. Nora eyed Luz, who looked absolutely miserable watching the movie and smirked. She waited for the female lead to come on screen.

“I’m Marlene Dietrich,” She said, putting on her best German accent, which wasn’t very good, “And I just borrowed my costume, my character, the cast, and the plot from the last movie I made.” 

Luz snickered, and everyone else groaned. 

“Don’t encourage him,” Lipton chastised her. 

“Here we go, favorite part,” Luz announced, re-energized. “Got a penny?...Got a penny?...Got a Penny?” He repeated, getting louder each time. Lipton and Toye glared daggers. 

Nora jumped in her seat at the sound of the theater doors being slammed open. She turned to see two officers from battalion headquarters cantering up the aisle. The lights flipped on, and the movie shut down, earning shouts of protest from the crowd. 

“Elements of the first and sixth S.S. Panzer division have broken through in the Ardennes forest. Now, they’ve overrun the 20th infantry and elements of the 4th. All officers report to respective HQs. All passes are cancelled.” One of the officers announced. Everyone groaned, beginning to file out of the room. Nora followed the others out, smiling at Winters as she passed by.

“Hey, you came!” She chirped, earning a nod from him. He was sitting with Buck, who didn’t look so good. Nora gave him a small smile, too, before heading out to prepare for mobilization.

* * *

The ride to Bastogne was bumpy, and Nora wasn’t exactly comfortable squeezed in between Babe and Toye, but the warmth that the proximity provided was almost enough to make up for it. Nora rubbed her hands together, blowing into them. Her jaw already hurt from the tension caused by her teeth chattering. 

“I just wanna know what the hell we’re supposed to do with no ammo.” Babe complained.  _ And no medicine,  _ thought Nora, though she didn’t voice the thought. There was no use in making everyone more nervous than they already were. For as long as they’d been stationed at Mourmelon, their supply still hadn’t been replenished? It was ridiculous. 

“What’s your name again, kid?” Guarnere asked the replacement sitting across from them.

“Suerth. Suerth Jr.” The kid answered.

“You got any ammo, junior?” Babe asked, unable to let the ammo issue go. 

“Uh, just what I’m carrying.” Junior answered.

“What about socks, junior? You got extra socks?” Someone from further down asked through the dark.

“A pair.” Junior replied.

“You need four  _ minimum. _ ” Muck said. “Feet, hands, neck, balls.”

“Extra socks warms them all.” Everyone chorused together.

“Well, since I only need three, he can have a pair of mine.” Nora chimed in, getting a hearty laugh for her effort. 

“You ain’t got four pairs of socks.” Guarnere argued. 

“You’re right, I don’t. Sorry, Junior.” She said.

“Yeah, none of us do. No socks, no ammo.” Guarnere lamented. The men continued to pester poor Junior about what he had or didn’t have until they discovered he had a pack of cigarettes. They passed around the cigarettes, and Lipton, who was sitting across from Nora, raised his eyebrows as she took one.

“Don’t look at me like that -- it’s cold.” She said defensively as Toye lit the cigarette for her, and everyone cheered. 

After a few hours of griping and trying to keep each other warm, they arrived in Bastogne, on the outskirts of the Ardenne forest, which loomed a little too ominously over them for Nora’s taste. The men jumped out of the truck and immediately turned their backs to unzip their pants and relieve themselves. Nora jogged in place with her arms wrapped tightly around her, trying to keep warm. She stopped when she noticed the replacement, Junior, eyeing her nervously. It took her a moment to recognize his concern. 

“Just pick a place, kid. I’m not trying to watch you take a piss.” She assured him. New replacements were always at a loss for how to navigate her presence.  

“Yeah. She’s trying to watch me.” Guarnere called from somewhere behind the truck, causing the men to erupt in riotous laughter. Lipton, noticeably disgruntled by that exchange, came up to Nora and spoke to her quietly.

“Do you have to go right now?” He asked. Nora shook her head.

“I’m alright for now.” She told him.

“Be sure and let me know if you need a lookout.” He insisted. 

“Thanks, Lipton.” Nora said with an appreciative smile. “Will do.”

“Hey guys, check this out.” Babe beckoned, causing everyone to take notice of the procession of soldiers that were walking down the road. Their faces were dirty, and their eyes were vacant as they trudged along. The hair on the back of Nora’s neck stood up and she glanced nervously at Lip. Easy Company men began to ask these men for their ammo and the men didn’t put up a fight. Nora didn’t need ammo, but they desperately needed morphine and bandages. She gently pushed through the crowd, asking the men if they had any syrettes or bandages they could spare. She was only able to glean a few from the crowd-- another sign that whatever they’d endured in the forest had taken a high toll on them.

When they’d gleaned all of the supplies they could, they were ordered to head into the woods on foot. Nora walked alongside Lipton and Bull as they weaved between those looming trees, rifles pointed forward. The walk was nerve-wracking, mostly because they didn’t actually know exactly where the enemy’s line began. After a while of quietly walking in that direction, Winters ordered them to dig in while watching for signs of trouble.

“Foxhole buddies?” Luz asked, jogging up to Nora’s side. 

“I already told Lipton I would,” Nora replied, “But if you want to lend your body warmth to

the cause, I’m not going to complain.” She added bluntly, teeth still chattering. There seemed to be no getting used to this cold.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Luz joked, pulling out his entrenching tool and staking out a space. Lipton and Nora followed suit. Nora used her body weight on the small shovel to try and make it break ground. The ground was so frozen, she was concerned that it’d take all night just to carve out a place to sleep. The biting cold was also making it hard to grip the handle properly. She looked up at one point to see them eyeing her as she struggled.

“Don’t you dare suggest that I sit this out,” She warned them. “I’ll freeze to death if I stop moving.” 

They turned their attention back to their own work without a word. The ground was barely breaking at all -- these tools weren’t going to work until they got below the frost line. As the men began to realize this, they pulled out their bayonets and used them to stab through the top layer and break it up. Once they’d done that, they went back to their entrenching tools, dragging the mud out a little bit at a time.

The layer underneath the frost line wasn’t much better. It was all watery, muddy slop that caked onto the shovel and then re-froze in the open air at a concerning rate. Nora had to keep smacking and scraping her shovel against a nearby tree to knock the frozen clumps off and start fresh. Whenever that didn’t work, they had to pull the bayonets back out and chisel it away. When the hole was deep and wide enough for them to stand in, they were standing in water. Nora was extra conscious of the water that she was standing in and the water that seeped into the socks on her hands. She knew that keeping dry would be a matter of life and limb and found herself growing progressively more anxious about the dampness. She decided to use her helmet to start scooping out the water and it became her primary job as the other two continued to dig and churn up more of it. The more water she scooped out, the dryer the hole was, but the wetter  _ she _ was, which made the work particularly frustrating. 

“Doing okay?” Luz asked after that she’d gone quiet, and her work ethic had turned fastidious. She nodded wordlessly, and Luz and Lipton shared a look.

“This should be deep enough.” Lipton announced, “Let’s get the rest of the water out and find something to cover it with.” 

They managed to find a tarp to stake into the ground over their hole and immediately crawled down into it, pulling the tarp shut to keep out the wind. They huddled close together and talked to keep themselves busy until they fell asleep. 

“I got cigarettes if we wanna share one.” Luz told them, his voice shaking from the cold. 

“We should save it for when we’re more miserable than this.” Nora suggested. It was hard to picture themselves being more miserable than this, but they weren’t naive enough to believe that it would get better before it got worse. 

“What’s the coldest you ever been in your life?” Luz asked. Nora and Lipton glared at him. “I mean besides now, obviously.” 

The foxhole was quiet for a minute while they thought about it.

“When I was a kid -- probably seven or eight -- my dad got stationed in Wisconsin for a few years,” Nora began, tucking her hands tighter into her armpits. “One time, we went to this parade. I don’t know what time it was, but it was dark outside -- pretty late. Anyway, we got there so early to get good seats, and we were so far down the line, that we ended up sitting there in the below-freezing cold for hours.” 

“Who holds a parade at night?” Luz interjected. Nora ignored him.

“I was wearing a lot more than this, too. One of those puffy snowsuits...winter boots...mittens. God, what I wouldn’t give for a pair of insulated mittens right now. Anyway, I can still remember wiggling my toes the whole time and telling my mom how much they hurt.” 

At first, telling the story had a calming effect; eventually, the reminder of the looming threat of gangrene brought her careening back to reality. 

“When I was in high school,” Lipton said, “A couple of my buddies dared me to jump into a lake in the middle of January.” 

“No you didn’t.” Nora gasped, coming alive again. 

“I did.” Lipton said. Nora threw her head back, laughing. 

“Please tell me you were naked.” Luz teased. Even in the below-freezing weather, Lipton managed to work up a blush and withheld his answer. Nora and Luz laughed even harder. 

“What about yours, Luz?” Lipton asked when they had settled back down.

“Mine’s definitely right now.” Luz replied, earning an elbow to the ribs from Nora.

 


End file.
